THE SHAKESPEARE MURDERS

by Marshall Huffman

  “What do you want us to do?” one of the officers asked as he climbed out of the car.

  “We are going to go up and see if we can find anyone home. We called Litton’s cell and home phone several times but got no answer. We want to make sure he is safe,” I told the officer.

  “Let me get my shotgun.”

  We waited until everyone was in place before I rang the doorbell. I could hear the chimes but no one answered. I knocked on the door and waited. Still no answer.

  “What do you think?” Dan asked.

  “I’ll try the knob. You have a glove?”

  Dan handed me a latex glove and I put it on and tried the doorknob. The door swung open.

  “Police. Mr. Litton? It’s IPD,” I yelled, sticking my head in the door, “Mr. Litton? Anyone? IPD.”

  “What do you think?” Dan said.

  I think I don’t want to just barge in there but instead I said, “We’re here. Let’s go look around.”

  “Right behind you,” Dan said.

  Like that would make me feel better. I had a better idea, he could go first and I would follow.

  “Let’s do it.”

  I stepped inside and did my best at imitating a spaz trying to look in all directions at once. Nothing. We worked our way into the front room. Nothing.

  Within minutes the downstairs was cleared. I started up the stairs with Dan behind me. As my head cleared the top stairs I could see two feet lying on the white carpeted floor of what looked to be an office.

  “Shit. This does not look good,” I said.

  “He has already been here,” Dan replied.

  No kidding. Unless Chad was taking a nap on the floor he was most likely dead. I made my way up the stairs and shoved the office door the rest of the way open.

  Litton lay in a pool of blood. I quickly went over and checked for a pulse. Son of a bitch. He was still alive. Just barely, but I found a pulse.

  “Call 911. Get an ambulance here immediately. Call it in as an officer down.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. Now.”

  Dan dialed 911 and urged them to get an EMT unit here immediately. I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t mention an officer down. We would talk about that later.

  While he was doing that I felt around on Chad. The sword did not exit his back. I put compression on the entrance wound.

  “Hang in there Chad. Help is on the way. Don’t give up on me. Come on, you can do this.”

  Chad’s eyes flickered but he didn’t speak.

  It seemed like a year before two EMT’s were kneeling beside me. They immediately pushed me out of the way and started doing their EMT thing. All we could do was watch.

  “Man, we must have just missed him,” Dan said.

  “This guy is getting on my very last nerve.”

  “He is damn lucky, that’s for sure.”

  “Lucky or smart. Whatever. I want to get this bastard,” I replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  We followed the ambulance to the hospital and went as far as they would let us. Not much to do except wait. So we waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally a surgeon came out and used his face mask to wipe his face. If he had been a Shakespeare character he would have wiped his brow. Since he was a plain old doctor it was his face that he wiped.

  “So?”

  “He was a very lucky young man. Being in good health and the blade being so narrow, it just missed his heart. A couple of millimeters higher and he would be down at the morgue,” the doc said.

  “So he is going to make it?” I asked.

  “The prognosis is good at this time. We obviously gave him blood and he seems to be doing nicely. His vital signs are stable which is always a good thing. We will keep him in ICU for a few days to make sure no infection shows up. Any idea what stuck him like that?”

  “A sword.”

  “A sword? Who carries a sword around with them?”

  “A very disturbed individual. Listen doc, we are going to put a man on his door just to be on the safe side. The guy who did this has already killed way too many people. I doubt he will come here but at this point I want to be safe rather than sorry.”

  “That’s fine. You will probably want to let security know so they can make the necessary arrangements.”

  “Will do and thanks. So far Chad is the only one to survive. I know what you’re going to say but we need to talk to him as soon as possible. This perp isn’t through killing yet and Litton is our only chance of getting a description.”

  “I understand. Really. I’ll evaluate him tomorrow and let you know. If he is up to it for a few minutes I’ll call you and you can talk to him.”

  “That’s super. We really appreciate it,” I said.

  Nice guy. Most of the time they protect their patients like they were made of gold. This guy had some common sense along with surgical skills. A rare combination.

  “So now what?” Dan asked.

  “Back to the office. I want to go through the financial documents they got from Kramer’s safe.”

  “I’ll drive,” Dan said.

  What the hell, he could get us killed just as easy as I could. I let him drive.

  * *

  “Detective Bartoni. Nice to see you again.”

  “Jean. What are you doing back here?”

  “It appears that the Shakespeare Killer is getting attention again. We heard about the two Litton’s.”

  “Actually Chad is still alive. No one knows that yet but we are hoping to get to talk to him tomorrow if he is out of the woods.”

  “You’re kidding? The paper made it sound like he was murdered just like his father.”

  “Yeah, sorry if they were misinformed about that. Shit happens.”

  “So this is a potential gold mine if he makes it.”

  “We sure need a break. The doc seems to think he is going to make it.”

  “Was there a note this time?”

  “Yep. Only two people know about it. Well, three now. I haven’t had time to tell the captain yet. We just got back from the hospital.”

  “What did this one say?”

  I handed it over to her in the evidence bag.

  If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?

  “So does this mean he is going to poison someone? That’s kind of what it says to me.” Jean said.

  “Hell I don’t know. So far he has used just a dagger and the sword. I don’t think he is going to use poison. It’s not what he does. I mean, this guy is deranged, who knows what he is thinking,” I replied.

  “What’s the play?”

  “Dan thinks it is from the Merchant of Venice. I don’t know. We can ask Dr. Snapp. She helped us decipher the last one and led us to get to Chad Litton in time. Where it came from is a lot less important than what he is trying to tell us.”

  “I agree. It just makes people look so smart when they quote where it came from. You know. Sur-fist-de-cated.”

  “Oh yeah. That would be me. I got a more gooder ed-u-me-cation,” I replied.

  “I see.”

  “Look. Why are you really here? I mean did you come up with a really great profile you wanted to run past me so your stock would go up in my cynic book?”

  “Not entirely. I mean, yes I do have a profile I would like for you to take a look at.”

  “Fine. You got it with you?”

  “How about we do lunch?”

  “You don’t have to take me to lunch. We can just grab a bite someplace. I know your FBI expense account isn’t all that great.”

  “Heck with the account. This will be my treat for your being so nice to me when I was here last time.”

  Oh dear. Something is up. She must want something from me but I’ll be darned if I can figure it out. What the heck. She is pretty okay in my book

  “You’re on. I’ll bring the captain up to speed and then we can go to Fred’s
Place. It’s just up the street a mile or so.

  “Fine. I’ll drive.”

  “You drove?”

  “I’m based out of Chicago. Actually I live between Chicago and Kankakee, Illinois. Driving is actually faster than flying.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “It took me a little over three hours to drive. If I fly out of O’Hare it takes an hour and a half, minimum, to get to the airport. If I get there an hour before my flight I’ve already spent two and a half hours. By the time we board, sit on the runway. A good three hours has gone buy. Then you add in the flight time, getting off the plane, luggage and on and on. It will take me between five and six hours. It’s easier to drive and I don’t have to put up with the security people at the airport.”

  “That’s a very good point. I’ll meet you back here after I finish with McGregor. Does the car have GPS?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. I haven’t been there in some time but I know about where it is.”

  “I’ll look up the address while you are in with the captain and when you get done we should be set to go.”

  “Works for me,” I told her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I was surprised when the doctor who had operated on Chad Litton called.

  “He is making an excellent recovery. He was able to talk to me for a few minutes this afternoon. I think it is safe to say that he will be strong enough to talk to you. He seems quite anxious to see you.”

  “That is excellent news. What time is good?”

  “After my rounds. I usually get done with my reports around 9:00. Say 9:30 a.m.?”

  “We will be there. Thanks doc. This is a huge help,” I told him.

  “Glad I could help. Actually, I guess Chad is doing all the work.”

  “He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You did good doctor.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  As soon as I hung up I went to talk to the captain. He was on the phone when I stuck my head in the door. He motioned me in and I sat down on the old couch. We should all go together and get him a new one for Christmas. Maybe with a pull-out bed so I could take a quick nap when he was off doing whatever captains do.

  He hung the phone, “So what’s the word?”

  “The doctor just called. Chad Litton didn’t make it.”

  His head dropped.

  I waited. What a shit I am sometimes.

  “Just kidding,” I finally said.

  His head snapped up and I swear he could have been the Shakespeare Killer. Daggers came out of his eyes. Whoa. Maybe not a good joke.

  “Bartoni, I ought to kick your ass. You are such an adolescent sometimes.”

  “Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?”

  “I never did. I tolerate you. Kind of even like you at times but this is not one of those times.”

  “Well, this should get me back in your good graces. We can talk to him at 9:30 a.m. tomorrow. The doctor called and said he was doing well.”

  “Hallelujah. About time we caught a break.”

  “With any luck we can get an idea what this is all about and hopefully a good description. I’m taking a sketch artist with me.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Now do you love me?” I asked.

  “Can’t say that I do but you are a tad more acceptable. Now go pester someone else. Unlike you, I have work to do before tomorrow.”

  I got up and went to the door, “I’ll fill you in just as soon as we get back tomorrow. I’m headed to lunch.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense tomorrow. Get your butt back here just as fast as you can.”

  “Aye, Aye mon capitaine,” I said and clicked my heels together while saluting.

  How rude. He gave me the finger. That’s not very nice, not nice at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  True to his word, the good doctor had one of the nurses usher us to Chad Litton’s room. I was somewhat taken aback. He didn’t look very good to me. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted them several times.

  Mr. Litton, I’m Detective Bartoni. How are you feeling?

  “Like someone tried to kill me.”

  Hey, not bad. He got it on the first try.

  “Yeah. I was hoping you could tell me what happened.”

  “When I got home this crazy man dressed as Zorro or some damn thing, jumped out and pointed a sword at me. Who the hell uses a sword in today’s world? I have a permit to carry a gun but didn’t have it on me at the time. I would have shot the crazy dude.”

  “Did he have a mask or anything?”

  “Hell no. Not only did he not have a mask but he even gave me a hint of who he was. I was in a drama class in College. This crazy bastard is still pissed because I got the part of Romeo in the play. Who the hell cares?”

  “Apparently he did,” I said.

  “Crazy. Nuttier than a fruitcake. He was trying to talk like Shakespeare. Using all that talk they used in those times.”

  “So what was this guy’s name?”

  “I can’t remember. The play didn’t mean a damn thing to me. He got really mad about that. Probably shouldn’t have said that. Anyway, I have been trying to recall the guy’s name but I can’t seem to pull it out.”

  “Have you or your father every done business with him?”

  “I certainly haven’t. Someone would have to check my dad’s files but we’d need a name first.”

  “Okay Mr. Litton. Where did you go to school and what year did you graduate?”

  “University of Indianapolis, 1988.”

  “You happen to have a yearbook?”

  “Nah. I just wanted to get the hell out.”

  “Okay. We can run it down. When we get it, I’ll come back and see if you can pick him out. In the meantime, I’ll leave you my card and you can call me any time if you happen to remember his name.”

  “Get that bastard, will you?”

  “Gonna give ya all she’s got Cap’n.”

  Litton looked at me like I was from another planet. For some reason, I get that a lot. What’s wrong with these people? Everyone knows Scotty from Star Trek don’t they? Young people suck.

  I went back to the station, brought the captain up to speed, and headed for my desk.

  “Hey,” Jean said.

  She was sitting in my chair at my desk. Normally that puts me off my feed but she did pay for lunch yesterday so I decided to overlook it for the time being.

  “So what’s cooking?”

  “Heard Chad Litton was talking. What did you find out?”

  “Great, thanks for asking, how is your day going?”

  “Okay, okay. How is your day going.”

  “Fair to partly cloudy, how about you?”

  She looked at me strangely for a second then decided I really was quite insane so she just went on.

  “What did you find out, if you don’t mind my asking since we are cooperating and all.”

  “The fruitcake we are after is all pissed off about how the world has wronged him. He killed Litton Sr. because he bought Chad the leading role in Romeo and Juliet. The guy thinks he should have gotten the part.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. I kid you not. Don’t know about the others but I’ll bet they had something to do with cheating him in one way or another.”

  “I must tell you. This is a first. When did that take place?”

  “Oh sometime in 1988.”

  “Wow, talk about carrying a grudge for a long time.”

  “The guy needs anger management classes; that’s for sure.”

  “Need help?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Going through the University records.”

  “What makes you think that’s what I am going to do?”

  “The paper in your hand says Unindy.edu.”

  “Nice pick up,” I said.

  It really was. I was going to have to be more careful around this woman.

  “Actually, I was thinking more
of driving over there and nosing around a bit.”

  “May I tag along?”

  “I don’t see why not. Have you seen Dan around?”

  “He and Eric went to track down some more financial records on Farley. It seems the sword he bought isn’t on the inventory sheet and isn’t in evidence.”

  “Darn. I forgot all about that. Maybe that is what this nutcase is using to run people through.”

  “Wouldn’t be all that surprised,” Jean replied.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  As you probably suspected, the University is tighter than a camel’s ass in a sand storm. Getting information was like trying to nail jelly to a tree. It was very annoying. All of this student confidentially crap. As I understand it, even the parents, who are footing the bill can’t get information about their own kids. Something is screwy someplace.

  The bottom line is that Jean and I ended up at the library checking out old yearbooks. Finally we located the 1988 yearbook and sat down and started looking through it. We found Chad Litton easily enough but we still didn’t know who we were actually looking for. We decided the best course of action was to check the book out and let Chad see if he could connect the dots for us. That is when we ran into the Library Gestapo.

  “We would like to check out this book,” I said.

  “Are you a student or facility?”

  Bad start. I’m pretty sure I don’t look much like a student.

  “Neither.”

  “You don’t have a card?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Then you can’t check any books out.”

  “Look, she is with the FBI and I am with IPD. We need to take this to help identify a possible murder suspect.”

  “You would need a card for that.”

  “You don’t want to make me get a warrant just to borrow one lousy book, do you?” I said.

  I really am trying to be nice. Honest.

  “No card, no book.”

  “It’s a stupid yearbook. Who the he...ck cares about a 1988 yearbook?”

  “A yearbook?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, that’s different.”

  “Well good. I want to check it out.”

  “Sorry, we don’t allow yearbooks to be checked out. You can Xerox the pages. A copy machine is right over there,” she said pointing to a line of students.