As much as I would love to believe that the so called Shakespeare Killer had up and taken off for other pastures, in the back of my mind I knew it wasn’t true. Jean’s prediction that he wasn’t done was still rattling around in my brain.
Things rattling around aren’t all that unusual for me but this one kept resurfacing.
Jean and the rest of the FBI clones had been recalled since no further word from the Florida police or the Cayman Islands had turned up a single lead. Florida and even the Coast Guard had kept a loose type of BOLO, cop term for be on the lookout, for a boat coming from around the west side of Cuba.
Trouble was, there are hundreds of private boats and only so many Coast Guard patrol boats. The ones they have are usually looking for drug runners, illegal aliens, and your occasional terrorist. Our Shakespeare perp wasn’t very high on their list.
For the next week I was mostly back on routine cases. Just run of the mill death and mayhem. The weather alone was enough to make a sane person commit a felonious assault. I gave it some thought a few times.
The Mayor was off the Commissioner’s back which made life easier for the captain and thus, in turn, my life improved as well. Other than the cold, I had to work at finding something to complain about. Everything was peachy until I got a phone call from Officer Lawrence.
“Detective Bartoni.”
“Uh yeah. Could I speak to Detective Bartoni?”
I wanted to bite the head off the phone but due to my good nature I just said, “This is Bartoni.”
Give me a break, do people ever listen?
“Oh. Detective we just found a body and I...we think it may be related to the Shakespeare thing.”
Crap. I’m not going to panic. The poor schmuck had no way of knowing that for sure.
“What makes you think that Officer Lawrence?”
See. I listen to people when they call me.
“Well, he has been stabbed in the heart and a note was stuffed in his mouth.”
“A note? Did you remove it?”
“Well the thing is..”
“Did you remove it,” I interrupted.
“Yes.”
“You used gloves right?”
“I did. It’s damn cold out you know?”
“Did you read the note?”
“Yeah.”
“Read it to me please.”
“Well it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me but here is what it says.”
My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke with one that saw him die; who did report that very frankly he confessed his treasons, implor'd your Highness' pardon, and set forth a deep repentance.
Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.
Officer Lawrence stumbled over a lot of the words so I wasn’t really sure what he was saying. Of course Shakespeare talked really funny anyway. What was with that guy? And people think I have bad grammar.
“Okay. Where are you?”
“At the law office of Litton and Litton.”
“The vic’s name?”
“Mr. Raymond Litton. His son and he own the firm.”
“Don’t touch anything else. Secure the crime scene. Any witnesses?”
“No. The janitor found him when he came in to clean.”
“Get a statement from the janitor and make sure we know where to reach him later.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Got an address for me?”
“Ohio Street. 28th floor of the Chase Tower.”
“We’re on our way.”
I grabbed Dan and quickly filled him in on the call. He drove a standard cop shop car and we got to the Chase Tower without serious injury. Did I mention that he is an even worse driver than Eric?
When we got off the elevator on the 28th floor, several uniforms were standing around. Most had coffee cups in their hands. Where the hell did they get coffee on the 28th floor?
“Detective,” a uniformed cop said, coming over from a group just shooting the bull.
“Yep. Detective Bartoni and this is Detective Dan Roberts.”
“I secured the area,” he said, quite proud of himself.
Yeah, with the help of about twenty-five cops just goofing off. He could have done it with two but hey, it’s just tax payer money so no big deal.
I guess I should have been impressed by the lavish furnishings of the office but I can’t help but thinking about all the people that they overcharged to pay for it. If I wasn’t such a cynic I would have probably been awestruck by the over the top décor.
We were led back to where the very dead Mr. Litton lay in a puddle of his own blood. A very thin blade of some sort had pierced his heart. His mouth was gaping open, probably because that is where the note was placed. Better than poor old Andrew Kramer. It gave me the shivers just think about it.
Looking around, nothing indicated a struggle had taken place. It seemed strange that someone could just shove a blade through Litton’s heart without some kind of resistance.
Grumpbutt Sorenson, the ME, arrived just as I was about to roll the vic onto his side.
“Trying to steal his wallet?”
“Why not, he doesn’t need it anymore.”
“I should call the cops.”
“I are the cops you curmudgeon.”
“Doesn’t look like he put up much of a fight,” Sorenson said, looking around.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Maybe he knew the perp.”
“That’s one possibility. Maybe he thought the guy was bluffing or wasn’t a threat.”
“Whatever, he guessed wrong. His bad.”
“You know about the note?” I asked.
“No. You got it out of his mouth? And I don’t see any gloves on you. That’s just rude.”
“You fart. It was in his mouth and the cop that called it in removed it.”
“What did it say?”
I took the evidence bag out of my pocket and handed it to him.
“Your lips move when you read,” I said.
“So what? Yours move too much any time.”
What a grumpy guy. I was just trying to help him and he turns all nasty.
“You done playing?” he finally asked.
“Kind of want to see his backside.”
I know he was thinking about saying something smart-alecky but decided to let it go. We rolled the guy on his side and I could see where the blade had exited out his back.
“Sword,” Sorenson said.
“Really sharp one too,” I replied.
“You need to get this jerk. The press is going to blast you, you know that.”
“Oh yeah. I just wish we had something solid to go on. The guy is really pissing me off.”
“Then get out of here and go do some detective stuff.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“When was the last time you saw your father?” I asked the younger Chad Litton.
“He was still at the office when I left. That was around 7:30 p.m.
“Was anyone else here?”
“No. Everyone had gone by that time.”
“So you were the last to see him alive?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning no one else saw him after you did.”
“I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with my dad’s murder.”
“How did you get along with you dad?”
“Great. Look you’re barking up the wrong tree. I loved my dad. More than that, I respected him. We have a great relationship.”
“What happens to the practice now?”
Chad just looked at me for a few seconds.
“Obviously I will take over the business just as dad would have if something happened to me. It was a partnership.”
“Did you have an argument with your dad yesterday?”
“A disagreement. We hardly ever argued. We disagreed on different interpretations of the law.”
“People in your office heard you and your dad going at pretty strong.”
“We were disagreeing over the Indiana Supreme Court ruling on concealed carry for firearms. Dad was very anti-gun. I am a strong believer in the second amendment. We often disagreed over that.”
“So you left at 7:30,” I said, switching tracks.
“Around that time, yes.”
“And then what?”
“I went home.”
“It took you an hour and a half to get home? Your wife said you got in around 9:00 p.m. She was a little miffed because you didn’t call and your cell phone was set for voicemail.”
“I stopped and put gas in the car.”
“That took an hour? You must have a big gas tank.”
“Okay, I stopped in the Union Jack Pub and had a couple of beers.”
“Anyone see you there. Anyone who knows you?”
“I doubt it. Maybe the bartender.”
“What was his name?”
“Her name. Her name tag said Shanna.”
“So you were hitting on her?”
“Not really, just being friendly.”
“Uh-huh. But you didn’t call your wife to let her know where you were.”
He didn’t answer, just looked at me.
“Can you think of anyone who would want to murder your father?”
“Sorry. I’ve been thinking about that and I don’t believe anyone is angry enough to actually kill my dad. I mean, sure people thought they were over charged but no one would kill him over it. What good would that do?”
“Revenge. It’s a great motivator. Could the actual target have been you and you were gone so they took it out on your dad?”
“I really can’t answer that. I don’t think I’ve made that kind of enemy. I can’t think of a single person that would want to hurt either of us.”
“Alright Chad. I’ll be in touch. Call me if you think of anything,” I said, handing him my card.
* * *
“Not much to go on,” Dan said after we got back to the car.
“You’re telling me. Ever heard of a lawyer that everyone loved? Either Chad lives in a fantasy world or had delusions of grandeur.”
“The captain is going to throw a hissy fit when we tell him about the Shakespeare connection.”
“Think it could be a copy-cat killer?” I asked.
“You wish. I think it’s the same guy. We need to find out just why he felt compelled to kill Mr. Litton.”
“I think we need to find a Shakespeare aficionado,” I said.
“Oooh, aficionado. Boy, expose you to a little culture and you just go all out.”
“How about you just go all out on paying attention to your driving. You just about got us killed five different times.”
“You’re not dead yet are you? Quit complaining.”
* * *
“Professor Snapp, we need some help with an investigation that involves Shakespeare quotes as clues.”
“Really? How exciting. And it’s Doctor Snapp.”
“Okay Doctor Professor Snapp. We still need some help trying to interpret what the clues mean. Would you be willing to help us?” I ask.
Nice looking lady. Obviously of the Arian race. Blond hair, blue eyes, and slightly square jaw. High cheek bones. Yep, one of Hitler’s little munchkins.
“I could certainly take a look at them and tell you what I think they mean,” she said. Nice smile, expensive teeth.
“Okay. We would really appreciate it.”
I took the notes out of the evidence bag. They were still sealed in the cover bags. She took them and just stood there looking at the bags.
“What?”
“I would like to have some time to look them over and study them.”
“Oh. You can’t do it while we wait?”
“I would rather not.”
“Well that would be okay,” I said. Something was bothering her but I just couldn’t figure out what.
“Doctor Snapp if you would rather not do this we could ask someone else.”
“Oh alright. I can do it now but I will need my reading glasses.”
“Ah,” was all I said. She didn’t want to put her glasses on in front of us.
“Look, Detective Roberts and I can go get something to eat and come back if that would make you more comfortable.”
“No. I was just being...I don’t know, silly I guess.”
“Nothing wrong with wanting to look nice. I doubt the glasses will detract from the way you look,” I said. Mama Bartoni didn’t raise no fools.
“That’s very kind of you. Let’s sit over here and I’ll tell you what I can.”
We took a seat around a small table and she laid the notes out. They were marked in order. She read the first one several times.
“Well, it’s from Hamlet.”
“Yeah, act two, scene three.”
She looked up, “Very good.”
“She had help,” Dan volunteered.
Remind me to shove him down the stairs the next time I get a chance.
“We kind of figured out most of them. It’s the last one we really want to concentrate on,” I told her.
She picked it up and started reading it. She went through it at least three times that I counted.
“Well it’s from Hamlet. The character Malcolm is...”
“Malcolm?” Dan and I said in unison.
“Yes. He was one of King Duncan’s sons. Why?”
“We have a desk sergeant named Malcolm,” I told her.
“I doubt it means that person. This is from Act 1, scene four. I would say that he is using these lines to convey that the person he killed had somehow wronged him. He forced him to admit that what he had done was wrong. Even so he killed him. See the line that says ‘Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.’?”
“I see it.”
“He is telling the reader that the only good thing this person ever did was to die.”
“I don’t get it. All the other notes pointed to his next victim. This is about who he just murdered,” I said.
Was he changing his MO?
“Perhaps he is using this in a broader sense.”
“Such as?”
“Well, did the victim have a son?”
“Sure. Chad Litton is his son.”
“I’m not positive but I could see how he might be saying that the son could be his next victim.”
“Holy Sh..I mean Holy smokes. You think?”
“I don’t know for sure but I could see that, if he is sending you a message,” the good doctor said.
“Wow,” was all Dan added.
“Doctor, thank you so much. We need to go find Chad Litton and provide him some protection.”
“I just hope I’m not sending you on a wild goose chase,” she said.
“Hey, you got a heck of a lot more out of the note than we ever would have.”
“I just hope it helps.”
“We need to go. Thanks again doctor.”
Smart lady. If she was right we could actually catch this nut.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”
“Ah Chad, thou dost not remember me? It is I, Bawcock your old friend from college.”
“College? What the hell are you talking about and what’s with the getup?”
“Hast thou forgotten me? We were merry friends. ‘Tis sorrow I feel.”
“Look buddy. You need to get out of my house before I call the cops,” Chad said taking out his cell phone.
“I beseech thee. Hear me out.”
“Man, you are nuts,” Chad said opening his phone.
“Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; riddling confession finds but riddling shrift."
“That’s it, I’m calling.”
“Stop Chad old buddy. Don’t you know who I am?”
Chad looked at him closely trying to decide if he knew this crazy person or not.
“Can’t say I do. You said something about college. Did we have classes toget
her?”
“Yes. We took a drama class together. You played the role of Romeo in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.”
“Really? What part did you play?”
“Well you see, that’s the thing. I was going to be Romeo but instead your deceased father purchased the part for you. He gave quite a large donation to the Theater Department with the caveat that you be given the part. My part.”
“Oh shit. I remember you. You wanted to be Romeo and I got the part. Hell, that was a long time ago. It didn’t mean anything to me then. Still doesn’t,” Chad said.
“But it did to me. I worked so very hard to get that part. I studied every line over and over. You. You just flubbed your way thought it leaving out lines and missing words. It was a disgrace.”
“Hey man, it was just a stupid play. No one cared. They still applauded when it was over,” he said and chuckled.
“I did not find it amusing. I found it tragic.”
“Well who cares? That was a long time ago.”
“Do you feel no remorse for taking the part from me?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Remorse? Hell, my old man got the part for me. I didn’t even want it. Who gives a shit now anyway?”
The man drew his sword and thrust it toward Chad’s chest.
“Hey, are you crazy? This isn’t funny. Get the hell out of my house you nut.”
“I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell,” he said and shoved the sword into Chad’s chest.
Chad looked down in disbelief.
“You are killing me over a stupid play?” he said, sinking to his knees.
“I find you most foul, and your father as well” the man replied.
Chad fell forward on his face; his blood seeping into the expensive white carpet.
* * *
“We need to send a car to Chad Litton’s house to keep an eye out for this guy,” Dan said.
“Call it in but we are pretty close, let’s take a run over there and talk to him some more. Somehow Chad and his father are linked to the perp. We need to find out how.”
Dan called the station and asked for two cars to be sent to the address on Pennsylvania. The high rent district.
We got there just as the two cruisers pulled into the large circular drive.
THE SHAKESPEARE MURDERS Page 13
