Match Play (26 page)

D
avid is waiting on the putting green when Maggie Baker arrives at Parker Golf Club. He’s still uncertain and feels as if he’s playing in the fog. After greeting each other, they go inside to check in. David notices an FBI flyer on the front of the counter and hides it with his body.

Had he paid attention to it he would have seen that it has been updated with two extra lines of information. “Suspect has been known to use the name Steven Johnson” and “Suspect may be driving a dark green Lincoln Navigator with tinted windows.”

He pays the fee for a cart and two players, and they drive toward the first tee. Maggie, who is as high-spirited as ever, wants a beer. They stop at the canteen on the way to the first tee.

They are paired with a married couple and after exchanging greetings they all tee off. When the canteen cart comes by on the fourth hole, David buys them each a second beer and while she is teeing off, he adds the first dose of sedative.

He continues drugging her beers throughout the round with regular stops at the canteen cart. Her manner and attitude change as the round progresses, and by the 14th hole he is satisfied that he is ready to play.

“When we finish, why don’t we go for dinner somewhere?” David asks, but Maggie is not quite alert.

“I’m not very hungry,” she slurs.

At this point, David decides to scale down on the sedative. “Well, maybe we can just have something light, or do you have plans?” He must keep her engaged.

“No, only a quiet evening at home. I’m really tired.” She is getting a little too relaxed. “Sure, some dinner would be nice, just something casual; these are the only clothes I have with me.”

He pulls up to her ball on the fairway and she steps from the cart. She is having trouble concentrating.

“Looks like about a 4 iron to me,” David offers.

She takes the iron and hits a straight shot that hooks off to the left side of the green. They drive on to his ball; his second shot, a 9 iron, lands behind the flag and draws back toward the pin.

By the 17th hole Maggie is more alert. They talk about her job, her divorce and her son. They talk about life in Parker which she thinks it’s too conservative.

He buys one more can of beer for each of them, spikes hers lightly while she tees off on the 18th hole. She keeps apologizing for not playing well. He makes light of it.

“If you play perfectly every time, you’d be on the LPGA and we’d have missed this chance to play together.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not myself today. I think we should skip dinner, and I’ll go home.” She looks a little peaked.

“You probably just need to get some food in your stomach. Why don’t we have something to eat at the clubhouse and if you’re not feeling any better, I’ll drive you home.”

“Maybe,” Maggie answers. She makes a double bogey on the last hole.

They reach the clubhouse and he drives to the Navigator, stows his clubs, changes his shoes, puts the briefcase in the back basket of the cart and drives her to her car. She simply isn’t responding the way he intended.

He unloads her equipment into her trunk and she changes her shoes. “Look Steven, I just don’t feel well, I’m going to go on home.”

“Oh, but what about dinner?” He tries to sound needy.

“No, I can’t.” She moves to the driver’s door.

“Are you sure you’re well enough to drive? Why don’t I take you home?”

“No, then I’d have to come back for my car and I don’t have a ride. I’ll be fine, it isn’t far.”

“Well, if it isn’t far, I’ll drive you home, and I can take a cab back here.”

She gives him a cloudy “I don’t care look” and says, “All right. I really don’t feel like driving.”

L
ou Schein.”
He rolls over and turns on a lamp as he answers the phone. “What? They did? When? No? Coming from the bar? Illinois plates? Where is it? See that nobody touches it. Get Nancy and ask her to call the CSU and let’s get some of our guys out there before anyone screws with it!”

He’s on his feet dialing Roger Payne.

“Get everybody up. We’ve got a break! Someone coming out of the bar of the Parker Golf Club spotted the green Navigator and called the police. Yes! Now! I want to be on the road in twenty minutes.” He snaps his phone shut, reaches for his clothing and quickly dresses. “I want the course manager there when we arrive. I want a name; I want to know who he played with, when they finished and where the hell he is!”

Moments later Roger and Lou are in the car, flashers blinking, speeding toward Parker Golf Club. Agents Phillips and Gibson are directly behind them. Both vehicles are speeding through the quiet streets of Parker, Colorado.

“We’ve got him, Roger,” Lou repeats, as he rubs his hands together, “We’ve got him.”

The team spent the day at Colorado Golf Club, not attending the Solheim Cup, but rather canvassing the area, looking for the suspect. They showed their flyers to anyone who would take note, and they paid special attention to tall men wearing sunglasses and caps. There were a lot of those, and they talked to a few, but at the end of the day, returned to the hotel with nothing more than sunburn.

It takes almost forty minutes to reach the golf course. On the way, Lou alerts all law enforcement agencies in the area and the FBI office in Denver.

The dark green Navigator is sitting alone at one end of the parking lot.

It has Illinois plates, just as the officer had said. It is locked. The Parker PD has a fleet of patrol cars and officers on the site. Thankfully not one of them is closer than twenty feet to the vehicle.

Lou introduces himself and his team to the officer in charge, Dale Michaels, then asks if one of his officers can slim jim the door. “But use gloves!” yells Lou. He turns to Michaels. “You’ve checked everyone still in the bar?”

“Yes, sir, everyone is accounted for. It does not belong to anyone in the bar.”

“Where’s the club manager? We need to see the starter’s sheets. Can you get us into the clubhouse?” Lou is pacing and impatient.

“The bartender can get you into the clubhouse, sir, but he doesn’t know where anything is. The manager is on his way, but it’ll be a few more minutes until he arrives.” Michaels adjusts his belt.

Lou Schein turns. “Phillips, you and Gibson take the clubhouse. Find the starter’s sheets. We’ve got to know who played with this guy. If it’s a woman, he’s sure to be with her.”

An officer interrupts to tell Lou they have the Navigator’s door open.

Lou, almost running, meets Roger at the vehicle. After putting on his gloves, Agent Payne pulls the front passenger door open. The interior of the car lights and they can see what is inside.

They perform a cursory search before the CSU team arrives. They find a set of golf clubs and shoes, a jacket, cap with the Titleist logo, maps and miscellaneous papers and brochures. Everything is neatly packed. They look under the seats, in the glove box and anywhere else they think they might find evidence. The registration tells them what they’ve wanted to know for months.

The match play killer is David Steadman from Chicago, Illinois.

Agent Schein motions to Officer Michaels and hands him the registration. “I want an APB on this man, now. Put it on every available channel.”

“Yes, sir. Right away!”

The agents open the liftgate, Schein picks up the golf shoes; they are cold and dirty. It is apparent they’d been worn that day and sitting for several hours. He walks back toward Officer Michaels’ vehicle. Michaels has just finished sending out the APB and is writing in his report log.

“I need to get those starter’s sheets right now!”

A vehicle is approaching on the street adjacent to the parking lot.

Officer Michaels speaks into his shoulder mike and is informed that the clubhouse manager has been let through and should be arriving any moment. He says to Lou Schein, “That’s the manager now.”

The gray sedan pulls up to the police perimeter and a middle-aged man steps from the car. “I’m Jay Albright, the manager of Parker Golf Club. I was told the situation is urgent, what can I do to help?”

“I’m FBI Special Agent in Charge Louis Schein. The man who drives this car played golf here sometime today. We need to see your starter’s sheets. He is the prime suspect in a series of murders; I’m sure you’ve seen our flyers.”

Jay Albright shows a momentary expression of surprise, and then tells Lou he will show him the sheets.

“I’ve got two people inside; please make those sheets available to them.” Lou turns and walks back to the Navigator.

Agent Payne has finished his examination of the car and has confiscated a 9mm Glock pistol he found in the spare tire compartment. He has tagged and bagged it and is handing it to Lou.

“Damn. I think he’s been gone several hours already. It’s probably too late to save the woman, but we’ll get him when he returns.” Lou motions to the cars around them. “We need to get everybody out of here. It’s close to closing, tell the customers to go home. Tell the police to move their cars out of sight but to stay close. Call CSU and Nancy and tell them to take their time, stop for coffee, whatever it takes. We don’t want them here until we have this guy in custody. We’ll call them.”

“Yes, sir.” Roger Payne starts closing the Navigator.

“Go into surveillance mode, park your car where you can see the entrance of the parking lot and alert us the minute you see anything. I’m going inside.”

Schein stops and gives instructions to Officer Michaels. The patrol cars are leaving as he is walking to the clubhouse.

Gibson and Phillips and the manager are going over the starter’s sheets when Lou walks in.

“We don’t mark gender on the sheet. I know the members who play here, but the ones I don’t know are guests, just names. I told the agents there’s no way to know who are men and who are women.”

“Damn it! Well, cross off every name you know.” The manager does as he’s told. “Can you tell who paid cash and who paid by credit card?” Lou is grasping for any kind of lead.

The manager looks up. “Yes, credit card receipts are referenced to the start time and the course. We have two courses here.”

“All right, get the receipts and get me the names of the people who paid cash.”

The manager goes to the other room to open the safe. When he returns, Schein tasks Phillips and Gibson with cross-referencing. Since one p.m. there had been about thirty-six flights of players on the courses.

“It costs seventy-five dollars per person to play a round,” offers the manager, “and most people pay with credit or debit card.”

There are only a few who paid with cash. When they reach Baker, Johnson, Albertson pair, the manager only crosses off the Albertsons. Schein stops him.

“What’s that?”

“The Albertsons are members. We bill them at the end of the month. I don’t know the other two, but they paid cash.”

Lou picks up the sheet.

“Have you got a phone number for the Albertsons? I want to talk to them. Johnson is the name the killer used in Phoenix and San Diego.”

“It’s the middle of the night…”

“Get me the phone number.”

Schein follows the manager into the back office where the member files are stored. Moments later the phone is ringing at the Albertson’s house.

“This is FBI Agent Louis Schein. I must speak with you about your golf partners today, and it’s urgent. No, sir, I cannot call back in the morning. You may have played golf with a murderer and we need your help to identify him.”

Lou listens and says, “Can you describe the other two people in your foursome? I need names. The starter’s sheet says you, Johnson and Baker. Which was which?”

Lou can hear the man ask his wife.

“Listen very carefully: did they leave together?”

“What does Mr. Johnson look like? Does he have any distinguishing features? Please sir, as quickly as you possibly can, please try to remember.”

Lou turns to Bruce Phillips with an exasperated sigh; then back to the phone. “What about the woman? We need to find her immediately. She is in grave danger. Can you remember anything else about the man? Please…” He is coaching him with his voice.

Lou can hear the man turn and speak to his wife.

“Thank you. I’m going to put another agent on the phone to talk to you. Agent Gibson will ask you some more questions, and please if you can, put your wife on an extension. Thank you for your time.” Schein turns to Agent Phillips. “We need an emergency number for Midwestern Bank, start calling. Get the police involved, find Maggie Baker. We need to know where she lives.”

He clicks his transmitter to talk to Payne. “Anything?”

“No, sir. But everyone has left. The Navigator is standing alone and we have the entrance under surveillance.”

Phillips taps Lou on the arm. “I’ve gotten through to Midwestern Bank. I’ve given them the protocol to access their computers but it’s going to take a moment.”

“All right, Roger, keep watch.”

Lou picks up another of the phones and dials 911.

“Hello, this is FBI SA Lou Schein; please stay on the line. In a couple of minutes, I’m going to give you an address. I need you to send a patrol car with backup to that address. We’re pursuing a murder suspect, and he is likely to be at that address. He’s armed and extremely dangerous. Please stay on the line with me.”

Bruce Phillips motions to get his attention. “It’s Maggie Baker, 13538 West Sycamore Road, Parker.”

Schein repeats the information into the phone. “Tell the officers to enter. Find out what vehicle is registered in Ms. Baker’s name. I want an APB on it post haste.”

Lou drops the phone back on the receiver and addresses both his agents. “Mary, I’m going with you in your car to Maggie Baker’s address. Bruce, stay and finish these lists, just in case this isn’t our guy. You’re back up for Roger; stay alert. David Steadman might drive in here any minute. I don’t want any mistakes.”

Schein and Gibson rush out the door. It will be thirty minutes before they reach the Sycamore Road address.