Murder! Too Close To Home (19 page)

Frank nodded slightly at me before offering his hand to the young manager. He knew when to play along with a situation until he caught on to it. Leaning in close to make sure he understood me this time, I spoke slow and steady.

“This is a murder investigation, Dale; three people are dead, cut down in the prime of their lives. We are investigators for the prosecutor, working with the task force investigating these murders, and we could use your help with a couple of the clues.”

Dale’s eye grew wide at the revelation, squaring his shoulders a bit before asking, “What can I do to help?”

Smiling slightly at the transformation, I continued.

“We have it on good authority that someone involved in these murders bought at least a full case of Johnson Brothers’ bean soup in the last week or so. It would have been in this area, right around the county line. Anybody that saw this person might help us identify a murderer. It’s a
very
important part of our investigation.”

A thoughtful look crossed Dale’s face, mentally making the transition from assistant manager to detective. I was so proud.

After a few moments he looked up. “Personally, I don’t remember anyone buying anything like that, but I could check around. There are sixteen people that work here, different days of the week, different shifts, like that. Might take me a day or so du….I mean sir; you know, until I can see everybody.”

Smiling, I reached into my jacket and pulled out one of my cards.

“Call me Gabriel, Dale” I said as I handed him the card.

Dale pulled out his wallet and inserted the card, taking care to make sure the badge imprinted on my card peeked out of the leather pocket so others might chance to see it.

“If that soup was sold here, I’ll find it for you…Gabriel.” Dale gushed as he held out his hand to shake mine and then Frank’s hand in turn.

As he turned to re-enter the store purposely, I heard a ‘humph’ come out of Frank’s mouth. Looking at my partner with a questioning look, I saw him shaking his head back and forth as he got back into our car.

“You just changed that boy’s life,” Frank bantered, “he may just be after our jobs one of these days if you don’t watch it.”

Smiling and looking over at my partner, I added, “If he finds who bought that soup, and if it turns out that someone actually
did
buy the soup, I may just give him mine!”

Chapter 47

March 20, 1997

The other store was too far out of our way and we decided to catch it on another night. Following the now well-worn map, we found our last stopping point and continued working our grid: left one mile, right one mile, right another mile, finishing with backtracking over the first road to get to the next section.

Back and forth in a maddening cycle that seemed to be getting us nowhere. It was an extreme hunch we were following, based solely on a vision I had in my head while sleeping. Adding to our difficulties in possibly identifying the murderer’s hideout was the fact that I had never seen the outside of the building, only the inside of the one room.

“Don’t look so discouraged, Gabe,” Frank said after glancing over at me. “It may take awhile, but we’ll find it.”

“I appreciate the pep talk, Frank,” I said, grimacing. “And I know you’re right, but the odds aren’t good that it will happen anytime soon with out some additional leads.”

“They will come,” Frank continued matter-of-factly, “they will come.”

“Like that one there,” I said as I pointed off to our left, indicating an old two-story farm house 200 feet off of the road. “I would jump on that one: secluded, no power to it, not even a mail box. Then I look at it closer. The grass is mowed, the house looks newly painted, there is no way the inside of this house looks like my dream.”

Frank reached over and grabbed my shoulder, “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that…”

I bust out laughing at Frank’s statement as he followed suit and laughed along. Immediately relaxing, I realized that I had been taking myself too seriously once again.

The rest of the night passed with no new leads, but with a much more relaxed attitude. Friendship, it seemed, helped overcome many things.

Chapter 48

March 20, 1997

The man had continued to watch from behind the old blanket on the window until the taillights disappeared down the road. The road the house was on had very little traffic, so any noise of a car on the road gave the man cause for concern.

The last three days had been busy with preparations for his next ‘project’. Jasmine it seemed had stepped up the schedule lately, giving him but a few days to get everything ready this time around.

Fine with him, he was anxious to get on with his work. The Ghost was ready to be released once again.

His eye started twitching furiously when he started feeling anxious, so he rubbed the ring that he now wore on his right hand with the fingers of his left. Calming almost immediately, he looked down to admire his prize as he continued to rub it.

He regretted that he had had to walk away from the necklace, but this gold ring was even better than the strange looking cross of his first trophy.

A college ring. Who would have ever thought that he would end up with a college ring for any reason? He actually thought it a fitting reward; after all he had just recently graduated from his former life, graduated with honors.

Jacob John Wesley was no more, the Ghost was now all consuming and in control. He was a master at his art, and the ring signified this very nicely for the man.

As an added plus, he could wear this in public without too much difficulty. Showing off to the unsuspecting idiots around him held a special place in his heart, which had in fact started beating wildly in his chest just thinking about it.

He again started rubbing the ring to calm down. It took longer this time to bring his rapidly beating pulse under control.

Pacing back and forth, he knew he needed to get out of the house again before he went crazy. Pulling the curtain back slightly once again, he saw that it was almost dark, safe for the Ghost to escape his confines.

Going to the old sideboard, he picked up the car keys, and then stopped for a moment before deciding to also bring the gun.

‘
What the hell,’
he mused to himself. The world’s most famous murderer should carry a weapon with him at all times! After all, it would be expected!

He was in high spirits as he exited the old house, blowing out the ancient oil lamp on his way to the shed to retrieve his car. He took in a lungful of the spring air as he pulled open the doors.
‘It would indeed be a good night’
he thought to himself as he entered his ride,
‘a good night indeed’
.

Chapter 49

March 21, 1997

We knew so much, and yet we knew so little. It was maddening.

It had been ten days since we had positively identified our perpetrator, and yet we had not been able to pick up his trail yet.

Frustration was again entering the investigation, like a mother-in-law living in the back bedroom who wouldn’t go home. You know she is leaving eventually, you’re just not sure if you’ll live that long.

Everything had lined itself up as it was supposed to in an investigation:

-We had positive proof of the identity of the murderer; confirmed by eyewitness testimony and recovered items in his apartment.

-We assumed that he still had the ring from the Longstreet murder, a sketch of which had been circulated to all law enforcement. This could help in confirming identity if he somehow changed his looks.

-We assumed from the soil sample from the first murders that there was some connection to our neighboring county to the north. The sketch of the murderer and an ID photo from his work had been sent to the Sheriff’s department in that county, as well as the State Police.

Other clues were not as concrete. Unfortunately, I was counting on these the most.

The code book indicated that there was a second person involved, and that that person was a woman. Betty was working with the lab to try and find a local connection to the notebook.

And of course, the clues garnered from my visions figured heavily into my
unofficial
investigation. I felt like a fool for putting so much credence into what amounted to unconfirmed hunches, but the other dream revelations had eventually panned out. I guess I just needed to have faith and plod along like I had been doing, hoping that sooner or later everything would work its way to the surface.

I was sitting at my desk, going over the known information and trying to come up with a new tack to follow. My door was closed as I tested out a new tool, reading glasses picked up this morning at a local pharmacy.

I had finally broken down, bowing to the inevitability of age and time. The Ben Franklin looking spectacles were, in my estimation, about as ugly as a pair of glasses could be. But the now amazingly clear pages of type lying in front of me confirmed the need and the wisdom of my decision.

I was still not willing to share my infirmity with others however; a fact that became clear as I quickly jerked them off my face at the sound of knocking at my door. In my haste to preserve my vanity, the glasses flew across the room, landing under the bookcase to my right.

I was looking that direction as Betty entered the office. “What’s wrong?” she uttered in response to the confused look on my face.

“Nothing,” I responded, instantly feeling guilty at even the hint of a secret with my wife. I would need to let her in on it soon, but it was still too raw of a subject.

Sitting down in the chair opposite me, Betty gave me one of her smiles that she reserved just for me, a hint of concern showing in her eyes nonetheless.

“You’re looking very tired lately, these long nighttime jaunts aren’t doing you any good physically,” she said.

“We need a vacation, how about you and me and a beach when this is over,” I asked her, suddenly animated. Her eyes sparkled at the thought.

“Count me in” she said as she opened the file on her lap.

“Ok, down to business. I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?” she asked, getting quickly to the point.

“Bad will do nicely, and then we can finish up with the good news, maybe make my day!”

“The notebook was made by Columbus Press in St. Louis. They distribute this particular notebook all over the country, any big box or chain store is going to handle it, literally any one of hundreds of people could have purchased it locally.”

“That’s depressing,” I said in response, “but more or less what we expected. What else?”

“Well, that would fall under the heading of good news, or at least not a dead end. Percy has analyzed the ink of the book, and found something quite interesting. According to the color and chemical makeup, he has isolated the manufacturer of the ink.

Upon calling them, we found that it is a special formula developed for one particular customer, a company in Florida that sells high-end stationary and pens through a nationally distributed catalogue, as well as an internet site that they just started last year.”

I sat up straighter, the revelation and its potential ramifications clicking immediately in my head. “That’s great,” I exclaimed,” that could really lead to something!”

“Already in the works,” Betty added with a smile, “they are faxing us a list of customers they have had in our county in the last year, as well as those from Franklin County. We should have it in an hour or so. It comes out to about thirty names.”

I let out a long whistle. “That’s still a pretty big list,” I said with a lack of enthusiasm.

“In addition to that,” Betty continued again with a smile, “I have been in contact with the private and parochial schools in both counties, and they are compiling a list of all female students they have had in the time period Percy recommended. A thirty-five year old would have started school in 1968, and a twenty-five year old would have graduated in 1990. Add a couple of years on each end and you are looking at a range from 1966 to 1992.”

“That’s probably still a lot of people,” I stated. It didn’t deem to be the great lead I was hoping for.

“Not really, the non-public schools in the area are all pretty small, some as small as two to three new people a year. Plus if we cross the students’ names with the names from the stationary company…”

“It would probably be a pretty short list!” I cut in, excitement again building. “Betty, you’re a genius!”

“No promises Gabriel,” she said with a smile, “but I’ve got to believe that this will lead to something we can use.”

I wholeheartedly agreed, the pride in my girl showing on my face. “Can we just hang around the house tonight,” I asked, “Not do anything”?

“I think that could be arranged, if you could bring something special home to eat. How about Mexican…or Chinese?”

“Perfect,” I exclaimed, probably the most excited I’ve ever been at the thought of doing nothing. I called Frank and begged off our nightly mobile investigation. He sounded relieved when he said that was ok with him.