Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) (26 page)

Then, the vigilantes appeared.

Groups of weapon totting vigilantes began patrolling neighborhoods. Anyone found alone was harassed and often searched. Ideally, suspicious individuals were turned over to the police. The ideal was seldom met.

Slasher fear was used as an excuse for racial violence, harassment of gays, and any other cause celeb. Three black youths discovered by one neighborhood patrol were severely beaten. Two escaped with broken bones and scars that would last their lifetimes. The third died from internal bleeding on the way to hospital. They had been in the neighborhood to visit a clergyman who had been instrumental in getting them admitted to college. All had finished their first year in the top ten of the respective classes.

Gays demanded protection from the police after one member of their community was found naked with forty seven gunshot wounds. The investigation of the shooting revealed a frightening story.

The shooting victim, a known homosexual, was walking home in the late evening when he came upon a neighborhood patrol. They demanded that he submit to a search. When he refused, he was taken forcibly between two houses and strip searched. He fought his captors and a rifle discharged. One of the patrollers was shot in the foot. Seeing his opportunity, the victim tried to run. He was shot down before he had gone three feet.

“We just shot,” recounted one member of the patrol. “It was just reflex. We just kept pumping shots into him. Every time a shot hit him, it looked like he was jumping up. So, we hit him again.”

When asked why they had finally stopped, the vigilante answered, “I suppose, we just ran out of bullets.”

Rumors about the Slasher spread through word of mouth, the media and especially the Internet.

New Facebook pages appeared daily. Each had its own take on the investigation. Some posted pictures and video from the news. Others had maps and predictions on where the next murder would take place. Others linked to sites selling memorabilia of other serial killers or DVDs of real crime scene photos. Most traded stories and gossip about the Slasher. Still other groups ran pools on who would be the next victim. Accurate guesses of the next victim’s age, gender, hair color,
etc.
promised big prizes.

Tweets burned up band width as each latest new Slasher “fact” was reported. Rumors took on a life of their own, quickly moving from speculation to accepted fact.

One such rumor had the Slasher driving a red Chevy. Police never learned how that rumor began but the city began to watch for the red Chevy. On a crowded downtown street during the afternoon rush hour, they found it.

The owner of a Chevy had parked illegally to run into the drug store to pick up medicine for a sick child. When he returned to his car, a mounted policeman was giving him a ticket. Worried about his son, the man started to argue with the officer.

Witnesses said that the rest started with one shout.

A pedestrian noticed the argument between the driver and the policeman. He recognized the red Chevy and pushed through the crowded sidewalk. He wanted to see the arrest of the Southside Slasher; his cell phone was already out to capture it all for YouTube. At the same time, he couldn’t resist telling people as he pushed past.

“The Slasher. They got the Slasher!”

In a city the size of Kesle, it takes a lot to make anyone take notice. That was enough. The man immediately attracted those within earshot. There was a silence around him and he sensed that he had become the centre of attention. He pointed toward the red car. “There! The Slasher!”

The mounted policeman, fought to control his mount as the crowd surged forward. Hearing the shouts, he started looking for the Slasher. The driver, ticket in hand, started to get back in his car, his thoughts still on his ill son.

The crowd surged forward as one and traffic crunched to a halt.

Thinking the driver was trying to escape, a large man yanked him back out of his car, clamping him in a bear hug. Another man swung at the driver but his legs were kicked out from under him. As the crowd moved in closer, the horse and policeman were pressed back.

With the driver still clutched against him, the burly man was rammed against the car. He had to release his prisoner in order to keep his balance. The driver went down on the ground.

Sanity was restored in five minutes. By then, the driver was dead, kicked to death by the angry mob.

There she was, just waiting for him at the bus stop.

Preston barely had time to get to the stop before the bus came. He slipped on behind and carefully chose his seat with a clear view of her. While they rode to whatever destination fate had decreed, he took out his small book. He compared her picture. As usual, his memory was flawless.

She was the perfect target to show the liars the truth. He would prove that all those stories were false. He would show them what a real man he was. He would show them he was not some faggot.

And, who better to prove it with! The years had not dulled the pain she had caused.

It wouldn’t happen tonight. He wanted to be sure that he would have plenty of time with this one.

“You have nothing!” Mayor Dalton stormed around his office. “Seven bodies and you have nothing!”

Keough could not make the meeting. His daughter was getting married and Mann had to sit in for him. Mann had tried to talk Livermore into going alone but he wasn’t having any of it. So, Mann had to follow Livermore to The Hill.

“We have some suspects,” Livermore said, soothingly. He nodded encouragingly to Mann.

“We do have suspects,” Mann agreed. “But, none of them have any substantial backing.”

“What the hell does that mean? Either you have suspects or you don’t. Do either of you have any idea what the press is doing to me?”

Mann and Livermore knew exactly what the press was doing. Besides making their job extremely difficult, they were all over the Mayor. With Lewery getting killed, the case had become very personal to the media. If the case dragged on, the Slasher would become an election issue.

“I need to tell the press that we have come up with something.”

Mann shook his head. “We don’t have anything solid. We cut the doctor loose. He was being watched during the next killing.”

“That isn’t good enough. What about all the tips that are coming in? Surely something must have come of that.”

Mann looked over at Livermore. What did they expect? Did they just want him to pull a suspect out of the pile? “We have got one person that is a possibility,” Livermore said.

“But,” Mann rushed to add, “the investigation has just started. We can’t definitively place him at any of the crimes.”

“But haven’t been able to eliminate him either,” Livermore continued.

Dalton stopped his pacing and sat down in his seat. “So, you do have something.”

“Not much. We have some circumstantial evidence and some of the information jived with past offenses. It’s possible. We have to take it slow. We want to build a proper case against him. We are considering bringing him in for a DNA test.”

“What’s the name?”

Warning bells were ringing in Mann’s head.

“Drabick, Stephen Drabick,” Livermore said.

The Mayor suddenly stood and reached out his hand to Livermore. “Keep us informed, Deputy Inspector.”

Mann and Livermore rode the elevator to the lobby. They were surrounded immediately by the press. Questions were shouted. Livermore cleared his throat. “We just gave an update to the Commissioner and the Mayor.”

“What about suspects?”

“At the moment…”

“Deputy Inspector Livermore has informed us that they have a suspect in the case. Naturally, no names can be given.”

Mann and Livermore swung around. Mayor Dalton and Commissioner James stood at the elevator doors. Mann knew they had been had. The entire meeting was a setup. The Mayor had everything planned and timed well in advance. All he needed was a confirmation that there
was
a suspect. Now, if they didn’t make an arrest shortly, the Mayor could dump Livermore and put in someone else. The buck would be successfully passed and blame would not fall on the Mayor, at least for now.

Mann slipped around the back of the crowd of reporters. He winced as he heard the Mayor talking about an imminent arrest. Disgusted, he went out to the car to wait for Livermore.

*

The next morning, Mann sat bent over his desk reading from a folder spread out in front of him. He checked to see how many pages were left. He was relieved to see he was on the last page. To the left of the current file, a stack of similar folders were piled haphazardly. One file was set by itself to the right.

Mann shut the last file and set it on the top of the large pile. He looked at his watch and yawned. Grabbing an empty Pepsi can, he went out into the main office. Greer was just coming in carrying two racks of donuts from the shop down the street.

“You’re in early, Lou.” Greer took another look at Mann’s unshaven face and rumpled clothes. “Didn’t you go home last night?”

Mann shook his head. He tossed the empty can in the recycle container and opened the fridge. Two cases of Pepsi were waiting for him. The cleaning crew must have restocked the pop before they left. Bless them. He popped a can and took a long drink. “I was going over the files.”

“Still not a believer?”

“Hardly.”

Greer set the donuts down. Mann looked at his watch again. “Aren’t you a bit early yourself?”

“I was up anyway. It’s so damned hot. I figured what the hell, so I walked in. It’s just a couple blocks.”

Greer was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t look particularly good himself. He was looking exhausted. Working too hard and spending too many hours at the warehouse or out on the street chasing down leads. They all were. Cops were going to destroy their marriages and their health because of this case.

After returning from the meeting with the Commissioner and Mayor, Livermore had called in each of the detectives heading major areas of investigation. They each brought in their top suspects. Nobody had anyone that they were overly hot on, just dead end leads and questionable tips. From that, Mann and Livermore had narrowed the list down to the pile on Mann’s desk. Drabick was still the best name and he was a long shot at best.

Drabick had come to their attention through the regular check of traffic violations in the areas of the killings. The Task Force regularly checked all parking violations for a ten block radius around the murder sights for eight hours either way. More if the ME was not confident of time of death.

Mann supported the practice but didn’t put much stock in Drabick’s tickets.

“Drabick’s got over a hundred tickets. I don’t think he parks unless it is illegally,” Mann argued.

“We know that the Slasher is not just picking his targets at random. The other tickets could be from his touring times while he is looking for a victim.”

“They got Son of Sam through a parking ticket,” another Detective pointed out.

Mann looked at Livermore who nodded. Even the Deputy Inspector was being affected. Mann had feared exactly this as soon as the Mayor announced the suspect to the press. Mann had experienced it before. When a case is at a stand still, especially one as emotional as this one, detectives will cling to anything positive. Unfortunately, too often the evidence was molded to the suspect rather than the other way around. What fit the suspect was amplified, what didn’t was altered or ignored.

Livermore was concerned about the Mayor’s spies. Unless they played along with the brass to a certain extent, they risked a clean sweep of personnel by the increasingly panicked Mayor. And that would set the investigation back days or even weeks as a new team got up to speed.

Stephen Drabick had a long history of criminal assault as well as two convictions for rape. In both cases, he had used a knife in the rapes. One of the women had been cut in the struggle. Drabick did not fit the profile as far as Mann was concerned. Drabick was an opportunistic rapist who used brute force rather than intelligence. However, word had spread through the Task Force and the detectives had begun to believe that Drabick was the best suspect. Some had even given up their own favorite suspects.

“If you are convinced that Drabick isn’t our guy, what do you suggest?”

Mann looked at Livermore. “Put a team on Drabick. We have enough for that. We’ll put someone on him round the clock.”

“And wait?”

“We don’t have enough for an arrest. We’ve questioned him twice. He has refused a DNA test.”

“Is there anything from his other convictions?”

Mann shook his head. “It was eye witness identification and fingerprints that got him. He wore condoms. No DNA samples from back then.”

Livermore and Mann had discussed the course of action. Both hated to pull the manpower away from the other promising leads but had no choice. The Mayor aside, there was the
chance
that Drabick was the killer.

Livermore turned to Mann. “Get a team together to watch Drabick. I want the first team over there within the hour. If we can get anything on him, we will pull him in again. I’ll inform Flem about Drabick and the stakeout. If we want this to get back to the Mayor, Flem is the person to tell him.”

*

“Nobody knows where he might be, Lou. The manager hasn’t seen him since yesterday. Do you think we spooked him with the second interview?”

“Keep on him,” Mann said, ignoring the question. “As soon as you pick Drabick up, stay with him.”

Mann swore and banged the phone down. He would have to send teams out to Drabick’s known hangouts. More manpower chasing air.

Mann had a feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. With Drabick in the wind, he prayed there wouldn’t be another killing.

Tonight was the night.

He was becoming impatient with just following her. The rage was growing and so was the dissatisfaction. He missed the rush, the feel of the warm blood running over his hands. Crouching in the shadows, watching, waiting, the anticipation was sweet but frustrating.