Match Play (11 page)

A
s the
team settles into their chairs, Lou turns his attention to Phillips and Gibson and asks for their report on Brad Billingsly.

Phillips verifies that Billingsly identified the sketch as Steve Johnson, the same man from Phoenix. He summarizes most of what Billingsly told them but emphasizes the rather bad scratches on Johnson’s right arm and that he paid cash for everything. Also, the subject never removed his cap or sunglasses, not even inside. He appears to be wealthy by the quality of golf equipment. Also, he had expensive jewelry that he removed before play.

Gibson tells the team that she has forwarded the full report to their email.

Schein asks if anyone has questions, if not, they’ll move on to Dr. Cochran.

Dr. Cochran begins her report. “Here’s what we have from the autopsies. I have no doubt this is the same killer from Phoenix. The autopsy shows the same combination of drugs in victim one’s body making it possible to render her barely conscious and then he cuts her throat. Cause of death is exsanguination. The dismembering was performed with the same surgical precision and the rest of the crime scene is almost identical to Phoenix, or the first hole
.
A golf ball was inserted in Ms. Cho’s vagina. There was no sexual trauma or semen.

“The stitching, ink, and fabric of the pennant are an identical match to the Phoenix scene, except there’s a ‘two’ on the pennant. The green was created with the same materials that the killer apparently brings with him, and the score was written in lipstick on Emily Cho’s chest. The lipstick belongs to Emily Cho.

“The third hole ball was found in the living room, as if it had been putted, rather than hit out of the house. If you’ll check your notes on Phoenix, you’ll be reminded that the first ball was hit with a 3 iron from the balcony.”

Dr. Cochran continues, “Victim two appears to have been punished for being an intruder…wrong place, wrong time type of circumstance. No drugs were found in her blood and her body wasn’t staged. Her neck was broken, and only her nipples were excised, the breasts are still intact. We believe the nipples of all three victims are the killer’s trophies.

“Victim two’s eyeballs were removed and her right hand has been amputated. In my experience, removal of the eyeball is a way for the killer to remove his image from the victim’s body. Based on the information Phillips and Gibson have just given us, the scratches on Johnson’s arm were possibly made by victim two and it’s probable her hand was amputated to insure that no forensic evidence was found under her nails.

“The blood from the bathroom curtain and the edge of the sink doesn’t belong to either victim, so we have forensic evidence of value. Also, the CSU techs lifted a couple of prints from the handle on the victim’s golf bag and they are being run through VICAP.”

Dr. Cochran finishes by saying, “I’ve got the paperwork started for authorization to uncover the sewer lines at Emily Cho’s house. He had to have disposed of the hand and eyeballs and a search of the disposal, trash and dumpsters in the area gave us nothing. He may have flushed the hand and eyeballs.”

Agent Schein thanks Dr. Cochran and reports that his request for the entire team, including CSU, has been approved. They’ll be going to Irvington, Texas after Rancho Mirage, should the killer continue to evade them. “We’ve got twelve days until the end of the Dinah Shore Championship in Ranch Mirage. Let’s try to catch this guy before that.”

Roger Payne offers, “Investigative work with the players, caddies, staff and others affiliated with the tour hasn’t produced any viable suspects. We have three surveillance teams at Rancho Mirage. They will have the sketch and Billingsley’s description; they’ll be looking for well-dressed men wearing expensive jewelry, sunglasses and some kind of hat. I know, I know, that describes just about everyone in Palm Springs excluding females. We’ve run the name, Steve Johnson, through all the sources and nothing has come up yet. I think we have all the evidence we’re likely to get. DNA and prints won’t help unless we have someone to compare them with.”

“Roger is right,” Lou interjects, “and the killer’s newspaper note indicates he’s ready to move to the desert. So, we follow procedure, work every angle systematically, and if necessary we’ll travel to Palm Springs Monday, April 1.”

David Steadman, En Route to Rancho Mirage, Palm Springs, California, Tuesday, March 26

D
avid Steadman
sits quietly in a restaurant waiting for his breakfast. He has cancelled his reservation for tonight in Carlsbad with the excuse of a family emergency. He will return to his room to pack, and then leave for Palm Springs.

The sun is bouncing on the crests of the waves; he’ll miss the ocean but remembers he will be looking at the Great Lakes in a few days. He is glad he left the balcony door open in his room. It will smell of the ocean when he returns.

There it is, exactly what he’s been waiting for, right there on the front page of the
San Diego Union-Tribune
: “Double Murder in San Diego.”

He reads the article for the third time, savoring each word.

“San Diego Police have reported the discovery of the bodies of two young women on Monday, March 25. Emily Cho, age 31, professional golfer with the LPGA and Mary Parker, age 28, were found murdered and mutilated in the home of Emily Cho. The Violent Crimes Section of the Los Angeles FBI has been assigned the investigation and reliable sources are reporting the crime may be the work of a serial killer. Details are withheld pending investigation. Special Agent in Charge, Lou Schein, declined comment.”

David is pleased to know the intruder’s name and age.
Ah, Mary Parker, we didn’t have time to get to know each other….
The waitress gives him a quizzical look when she brings his breakfast; he averts his eyes and concentrates on his plate.

David wants to know all about FBI Agent Lou Schein.
Who is he? Where does he come from? Does he have the intellectual stamina to stay in the match?

He ponders his next word scramble and decides to provoke Lou Schein.

The third hole will be a par 5 and it will require a different kind of course management. Yet, depending on the characteristics, it might be easier than he imagines. Rancho Mirage and the surrounding area is a fairly large city and a large percentage of the population is over fifty years of age. If he can keep to his schedule, he will be there in plenty of time to play the third hole properly.

He expects to be in Palm Springs by this evening. The Kraft Nabisco Championship starts on April 4, which gives him ample time to set up
;
an eagle in the desert would be perfect! He wonders if Lou Schein has deciphered the scramble he left at the second hole.

Knowing his opponent makes it a genuine game of match play.

He finishes his breakfast, sanitizes his hands and walks back to his room. He was right, he can smell the ocean, and the room is cool and salty. He removes his cap for the last time until tonight, brushes his hair and undresses to shower.

Naked, he removes the three small jars from the mayonnaise jar and carefully washes them in the bathroom sink. The ritual relaxes and arouses him. He stands in the doorway of the balcony, allowing the sounds and smells of the ocean to wash over him. Soon his breathing is synchronized with the waves; he is quiet, almost meditating.



The barren and rocky landscape looks dry and hot, but he is comfortable in the Navigator. He activates his GPS and requests hotels near golf courses, settling on Le Parker Meridien Palm Springs.

He knows he will attract attention if he maintains his practice of paying cash. His only alternative is to use a credit card. He opens his briefcase, accesses a secret compartment and retrieves the company card for A-Prime Packing. He may be jeopardizing his anonymity, but registering as his father, Robert David Steadman, will less likely be noticed than paying cash at a top hotel.

He slides out of the Navigator, locks it and proceeds to the front entrance of the hotel. He emits an air of wealth and prominence. The concierge greets him and directs him to the front desk.

Noticing the manager is present, he directs his attention to her as he prefers to deal with professionals. He tells her he does not have a reservation but he will be in town through April 7 and would like a room with maximum privacy. She suggests a villa, the only available unit of that type. It has a separate entrance, private patio, and all the amenities anyone might require.

He agrees, and without questioning the price, hands her his credit card and ID. She returns with the room key and directions. He is pleased to discover he can park in a private, covered space right next to his room and unload his luggage; most important, he can come and go without prying eyes.

The villa is more than he hoped for, newly renovated and well designed with a luxurious feel. It is equipped with a safe he can use as a repository for his trophies. He unpacks and arranges his clothing on opposite sides of the walk-in closet. He looks over his dining choices and chooses the most informal for his dinner.

While he is eating, he thinks about the third hole and how his course management will be changed since he is playing a par 5. None of the professionals on the LPGA are that old, so it will have to be a member of the support staff or the press. For the par 5 to be successful, the hole must be in her fifties. It will be a challenge to transform her.

He finishes his dinner and pays cash. He decides to drive to Mission Hills Country Club. He is interested in the layout of the grounds and how they will affect the match. Then he will find some public or semi-public courses where he can work on his game.

Mission Hills is a beautiful course. He goes to the clubhouse and picks up a couple of scorecards along with brochures on other courses. The fifth hole and the twelfth hole are par 5’s so he will decide which to use for the third hole later in the week, prior to the start of the tournament. Preparations are well underway for the tournament and he spends little time there; avoiding as many people as possible while implementing his unreadable, faceless persona.

On a brochure, he finds at least ten semi-public courses in the area and his desire to play becomes intense and overwhelming. He has a week to play as many courses as he can and is undecided where to start. He must find a par 5 that arouses his interest before April 4.

It is too late to play golf today, and he left his clubs in the villa. Besides, he is beginning to feel ill. Even with air conditioning in the car, he is very warm. He stops at a corner drug store for pain and flu remedies along with antibiotic cream for the scratches, then returns to the hotel.

In the villa, he closes the drapes and changes into a flannel nightshirt. He takes the medicine and falls into bed, pulling the covers up around his neck. He is certain he has a fever. Two hours later he wakes in a terrible sweat and barely makes it to the bathroom before he vomits.



He is riding his bicycle in Oak Park when he sees the Rolls coming down the street toward him. There are two dead cats in a paper bag in the basket of the bicycle. He starts sweating and breathing hard, and fear rifles through his body.

If his father stops and gets out of the car, he will discover the cats for sure and there will be no explanation. He peddles faster, trying to look distracted, trying to look like he is interested in something on the other side of the street.

He can hear the car almost adjacent to him so he keeps looking at the other side of the street. Out the corner of his eye he sees something…is that blood staining the paper bag or is it just moisture? He hears the car slowing and begins to panic
. What will he do?

Now he is next to the car and his father is honking the horn. It sounds like the cats screaming in his head. He and his father apply their brakes at the same time; they are side by side in the center of the street.

His father has the window down. “You damn fool, watch where you’re going! I could have run over you!”

“Sorry,” David says meekly looking at the ground.

“Did you get my clubs cleaned? I want to play golf this afternoon.”

David tries not to look at his father.

“What’s in the bag?” his father inquires.

“Just some junk.” David squeaks.

His father accelerates down the street.



He awakens suddenly, his nightshirt soaked with sweat and urine. Luckily he had the foresight to cover the mattress with a towel. He shivers, the chills worse. The urge to vomit is strong and he rushes to the bathroom. Afterwards, he strips his clothes and takes a quick shower, then dresses in a fresh nightshirt. He pulls another towel from the rack to lie on the bed and takes the soiled one to the pile in the bathroom. He collapses on the bed and says, “Please don’t dream.”

The nightmares return as soon as he falls asleep. The high fever delirium doesn’t help.



It is winter at dusk and he is walking down the railroad tracks. He doesn’t know where he is but the surrounding area looks desolate and frightening. He feels apprehensive, the ominous shadows feed his paranoia, and he’s sure a bum or transient will kill him.

Snow is piled along the track and he is expecting someone, anyone to jump out and grab him. He hears a train whistle but can’t see a train; he puts his ear to the track to listen for vibrations. He raises his head and suddenly hears a kitten crying.

He follows the sound of the kitten and finds it. The poor thing is thin and sick and for a moment he feels sorry for it.

The kitten’s meowing sounds like shrieking for him. Suddenly he feels his rage rise, and he has to stop the cat. He goes to the nearest snowbank and digs a hole a couple of feet deep, throws the kitten in the hole and fills it with snow. He packs it with his foot. He no longer hears the kitten.

He walks a short ways when he hears a terrifying roar. He turns, panicked. He stands, shaking with fear. A beast explodes from the snowbank where he had put the kitten. It is cat-like but enormous, with wolf-like fangs dripping saliva. The eyes glow like hot coals as it turns its head toward him. It springs from the snowbank onto the tracks and begins to pursue him.

He screams and runs, sprinting with all his strength; he can hear the paws of the beast on his heels. He runs as hard as he can but the beast is snarling right behind him. He can’t tell if it is the breath of the beast on his legs that is making him hot or the strain of running. He knows he is dead. He is spitting and salivating and needs to wipe his mouth. He reaches up and presses his hand to his lips and when he moves his hand away from his mouth it is covered with blood.

He screams like the cows he had slaughtered at the plant and sits straight up in bed, grasping for anything and pulls the covers over his head. He shivers and convulses with dry heaves. He falls backwards, hitting his head on the headboard. He’s gasping for air until his heart finally slows and returns to normal.

He can’t allow himself to fall asleep again.

The fever has broken. He is feeling weak and sick and the thought of food makes his stomach churn. He goes to the refrigerator and drinks orange juice out of the bottle. The cold liquid soothes him.

In his state of mind, he is sure the beast is in the room with him.

He is again soaked through and strips naked and showers with hot water to relieve the chills. He wraps himself in the thick bathrobe provided by the hotel and, exhausted, lays down and despite his fears, falls into a peaceful sleep.

By morning David is sure it will be a few days before he can resume the match, but he has ample time to recuperate and regain his strength. He calls room service and orders something light to eat. Food will help him feel better.

He will work on his knives and make further preparations for the third hole
.