John: The Senior Killer

by Robert Waggoner

  “Boss, there are just too many cities and towns to make a word game here in California alone. What if he decides to cross to another state and play another game? My god this could go on and on. Do you realize Brad even if we find out who he is finding him will be another story altogether.”

  “Yes I know that and running him to ground is going to be some luck on our part and bad luck on his part.” His cell rang and it was Sujin reporting in. Brad listened and never said a word for ten minutes while Billy played with his laptop. He heard Brad say something and hung up. Brad sat there thinking for a while and Billy knew better than to disturb him when he was thinking. Billy was always amazed how he reasoned things out and was usually right most of the time with his deductions.

  “Billy, Sujin may be on to something. To make a long story short, she found a guy who took a leave of absence from a film production company and after two weeks was found dead in his house. His brother handled the small estate and lives in San Diego now, but after trying to locate him, the neighbors haven’t seen him in a month or more. The car fits the description and Sujin and Mike are on their way down to San Diego now to talk to the neighbors.”

  Billy waited to see if he was through and when he looked up at Billy he said, “I know what you are thinking: how does the brother fit into the scheme of things?” I really don’t know and even if he is driving his brother’s car, that doesn’t make him a serial killer. But it sure makes a guy wonder what he was doing, if it is the same car, in the area with a dead man talking to a postman.”

  Billy added, “And it is doubtful the car was stolen. But why would the dude keep an old car like that and what is he doing running around killing old people?”

  “I’d like to know the answer to that too, but time will reveal the answer and if I’m not mistaken, it isn’t the brother but the guy who took the leave of absence.” Billy had not a clue what Brad was thinking, but then most people didn’t. Only his wife knew what he was thinking most of the time. Brad lapsed into thought and Billy went back to his computer lighting up another smoke blowing a smoke ring at the ceiling.

  The hotel room’s phone rang and Billy went to answer it. He said yes and told Brad it was for him. Brad moved to the bed and identified him to the caller. It was the FBI profiler and she was staying at the same hotel. She’d asked Brad if he would like to have dinner and he agreed, as he told Billy after hanging up. Walking out the door to take a shower and change clothes he told Billy to keep at it and left.

  Brad met the profiler in the bar at eight and by her telling him what to look for, he spotted her at a small table with a glass of wine. He walked up and introduced himself. She was as tall as him and about the same age. Nice looking with short black hair and eyes that were piercing like his. He couldn’t tell the color from the dark bar, but guessed dark brown as were her skin. She was dressed causal but expensively: white silk blouse with black pants that contoured her nice figure. She gave off no sexuality, but in a friendly manner of intelligence. A real professional he thought and she smelled good too.

  She asked him if he would like something to drink and he told her tonic water with lemon and no booze would be fine with him. She signaled the waiter as he guessed she wanted control of the situation for at least the present. Time was always on his side and he relaxed to hear what she had to say. It was quiet with the bar TV news on but no sound. His drink arrived and after each took stock she told him again her name and position with the FBI. She must have thought he couldn’t remember names well as she told him her name was Wendy Brown. Dr. Wendy Brown, but he could call her Ms. Brown. Brad responded by saying his name again was Brad Pratt. Dr. Brad Pratt, but she could call him Brad. Her face turned a little red by the candle light and it was evident she hadn’t done her homework on him. Brad took a sip of his tonic and waited for her to begin the discussion.

  Wendy recovered quickly and said, “I’ll give you bullets,” and started her standard story of a person who fit this type serial killer. “Psychologists make a practice of profiling people for a variety of reasons. Psychologists believe that our adult behavior is based on circumstances during the formative years. In this instance, parental neglect, especially the mother can set in motion behavior that will ultimately be considered pathological. This is also a case of fixation, a morbid thought process that a particular group is responsible for harmful things and as a result need to die. When we say that, we are getting into some very serious psychopathology like schizophrenia. These are a psychosis and one are divorced from reality. They can structure their world in keeping with their needs and can be oblivious to logic or the real world. They are totally governed by their emotions, most of the time, negative such as hate, resentment and a strong belief that they can do something about the things they believe are within their power to control even if it means destroying them. Generally, they have no conscience or awareness of right or wrong. They do things because they think and strongly believe that this is OK, they cannot ever accept responsibility for their actions. They have no control system such as a belief that they will go to jail if they are caught and a further belief that it is impossible for them to get caught in the first place. They do not think like normal people, they construct their world in keeping with their needs. Often, things happen to them at an early age to reinforce a pathological belief, such as an older person doing something to them while they are youth that they feel rightly or wrongly is a personal attack on them or something that they believe harmed them, kept them from getting something that they wanted, etc. They can turn on and off this pathology. They can work well at a job, not be noticed and can control their impulses for a long time, but then they can be overtaken by the sickness and they need to act on it. They have to be very clever in order to perform acts of violence in such a skillful way that they will not get caught, but often make purposeful mistakes to challenge authority to try to catch them, and in some instances want to get caught. It is always a very complicated set of circumstances and no two serial killers are alike, but all possess the same developmental aspects that set in motion their particular pattern of behavior.”

  Brad was impressed and didn’t feel the need to comment. He said, “Thanks for your report and if you are hungry, which I am, let’s have some dinner.”

  A smile broke across her face and revealed nice teeth behind kissable lips and she replied, “I too am hungry and let’s go eat on the government.” Sitting at a dinner table they had an informal conversation about this case and Brad told her the latest from Los Angeles.

  She remarked, “I think you might be on to something, but it still leaves us lost in the woods to find him if he has in fact left his home for good.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, but at least we will have a name and most likely a picture of his true self to work with. However, I fear he travels in disguise so maybe we don’t have much to go on after all.”

  “I disagree. It will give us a real personality to work with and with that we can alert any and all senior centers and clubs from Canada to Mexico and over to the Mississippi River if necessary.”

  “That will evidently help, that is for sure, but what if he changes his tack and moves to another arena, like for example, health clubs, boat clubs and retirement homes and look at how many old folks in Arizona and Florida to choose from.” He knew he made his point when she didn’t reply as the waiter came to take their order.

  After dinner they both went for a walk. The night was clear but a little chilly. She had a light jacket on and he had his sport coat. Rocky felt no need to protect his master from her so he followed behind. Wendy never made a comment about his dog. She accepted it as his own need and why questions it? She was on the spot with this killer and her future rode on her being right when it came to profiling, what had become known as the “Senior Killer.” What made her scared was her future rode with this guy and his dog? She remembered leaving so quickly she failed to run a check on this guy. Landing at the airport and her brief meeting late with Jake who had be
en off on location with the latest killing, didn’t glean much background on Brad Pratt and his team. In the morning, she thought, I will find out who this good looking guy is. God was he handsome, she thought. She noticed no ring, but in this day and age, meant nothing. She was single and went both ways. She liked it that way.

  Walking back they said their good nights and went to their respective rooms. Brad decided he would run in the morning and went to bed hoping that no dreams came to haunt him like they usually did when he was on a case.

  As usual he woke up in a sweat with Rocky licking his face. He reached out and hugged his dog and told him he was fine now. Rocky was used to his master dreaming about something bad happening in his master’s past. Last night was no exception as he dreamed of being interrogated by a sadistic guy with pure evil in his eyes. The man held a cordless drill with a half inch bit running it in front of his eyes while another well-dressed Arab asked him questions in perfect English. He was hanging from two ropes in a dwelling that stank of goat and unwashed bodies. His feet tied together as were his legs just above the knees so he couldn’t lash out with his legs to his tormentor. The drill was coming closer to his eyes when he woke up screaming and Rocky was there to comfort him.

  Brad looked at his watch and it said four thirty. He got dressed in his running gear and left the hotel for a ten mile run with Rocky.

  By six he was freshly showered and dressed waiting for Billy to come down for his morning report. Brad was reading the morning paper about the serial killer striking again in Bishop. He read the usual dribble from the authorities stating they were closing in on the killer and it would be only a short time before they had him behind bars. Just then a familiar voice asked him if she could join him for breakfast. He looked up to see Wendy looking fresh and lovely ready to take on the day. He asked her to sit down as Billy came walking in with a blue cloud of blue smoke trailing him. He sat down next to Brad and stared at the lovely creature across the booth from him. Billy stuck his hand out and told her his name. She tentatively took his long fingers and a quick shake drawing back her hand as if it touched something dirty. Billy was anything but dirty. Maybe his dress was something to not admire, but his dress was clean as was he. Brad told her what Billy’s role was and she nodded her head taking in the light blue eyes of intelligence once she looked at him a little harder.

  Brad told Billy and Wendy that they were off to the airport to fly to San Diego to look first hand at the house where the brother lived. Sujin had called him and told him he needed to see this place for himself. He never questioned her suggestions, only followed what she knew as important to him and the case they were working on. Wendy never batted an eye, but told Brad she would pack her bag and be ready when he gave the go signal.

  Steve met them at the airport. He’d been to Palm Springs to see Brad’s father where the Gulf Stream had picked him up and flew on up to Sacramento. Jake was also aboard as well as agent Jones whom Brad had asked for to accompany them to San Diego.

  Brad sat with Steve and Steve filled him in on his stay with his father. It would seem a lot of pressure was being applied from the two gents at the initial FBI meeting having flown back to Washington to report the findings. The president was in a corner and with the war in Iraq and Afghanistan; along with the mounting pressure on North Korea and the flowering of China wanting more high tech weapons, the pot was boiling over. Steve told him we need to put this guy to bed and take some heat off the president and let the seniors sleep again in peace.

  Brad said, “We are close, but still a long ways of putting our hands on this guy. Frankly he needs to make a big mistake for us to catch him. From what I hear about his house, this guy knows how to keep an arm’s length away from the law.”

  “We are counting on you and the president knows you and your team are our front line in this matter and he says only to ask and you shall have whatever you ask for to stop this guy.”

  About then the plane landed in San Diego where his wife was waiting along with Mike. Striding to meet up with Sujin a government van was waiting to transport them to the house in question, Rocky ran ahead and Sujin squatted down Asian style and gave him a hug. Riding along down the freeway Sujin filled Brad in on what she knew and discovered. She told him they had exhumed the body of what was supposed to be John Mitchell, but they were now running tests to determine who this guy was. He fit the size, but from a closer inspection of his picture from the studio where he worked, this was indeed not the John Mitchell who was supposed to have died. It was clear to all that a clever attempt to cash in on a life insurance policy and the resulting sale of the house, gave our killer ample cash to operate for a long time if need be.

  Mike was still on a hunt for leads and he had some interesting facts to share about disguises that he found when he had the picture of John to show the suppliers of costumes and other items necessary for a complete change over if desired.

  Sujin went on to tell him that the neighbors had not seen him for more than four months. No mail had been delivered or papers. He had simply vanished in his old car. She left out much of what the house looked like for his methods of discovery. She held onto the fact John had the house cleaned from one end to the other and the plumbing too. Not a trace of him was evident. Not one fingerprint was found.

  Brad took this all in as they drove up the street to park. The usual yellow crime tape surrounded the house and yard. It was a simple house: a two bedroom with a one car garage in an old neighborhood. It was a house that nobody driving down the street would notice. Only curious neighbors noted his comings and goings. The report from the neighbors he was friendly but not social; quiet but private and his comings and goings were irregular.

  Brad walked up to the house and showed the policeman his ID along with Rockies. The policeman frowned at the dog and Rocky gave him a fierce stare back and that was enough for the guy to move out of the way quickly. To Brad this house looked like what he’d heard about houses back in the late fifties or early sixties and smelled like an old grandma’s house that badly needed airing out. It permeated dust, mold and the faint smell of mothballs. Beige wallpaper with old worn out carpet the same color greeted you as you entered directly into the living room from the front door. Brad stepped to the opposite side of the room near a narrow window that faced the side yard. An old dark maroon sofa sat in front of the street window. It took up most of the wall space with a cheap wood coffee table with coffee stains sitting in front of it with two magazines lined up on one side. Next to where he was standing a rocking chair with wooden arms straight out of the Salvation Army sat waiting for its occupant. A permanent sag in the middle gave truth to the years of use. The color gave him the memory of Army green. A side table with a lamp perhaps bought at the same time as the chair sat to the back of the table. Brad turned the switch and the light came on. He turned it back off. He looked just opposite the rocking chair and there another table struggling to hold up an equally old TV sat looking tired as the house. Next to the TV a narrow but tall book case half full of books helps cover the wallpaper. Not one picture hung from the walls. He walked closer to examine the walls where a picture hanger waited for someone to hang a picture from. The outline of where pictures once hung was still evident in three places on the walls.

  Next he moved to the kitchen. A small table with two chairs of the same vintage as the living room stood next to a window looking out to the back yard. An old refrigerator with a pull handle sat next to a small sink. An electric stove with a coffee maker next to it on the counter along with a set of canisters rested under the cabinets. The door led out to the backyard through a laundry room where an old coat and umbrella hung above an old set of black boots sat waiting for someone to take them for a walk in the rain.

  Brad looked up at Mike who stood in the kitchen doorway waiting for orders. Brad told him to make a complete inventory of everything in the house along with Sujin taking pictures. Mike knew he meant even the salt shaker and how much salt was left in it. Before leaving t
he kitchen Brad opened the refrigerator and discovered nothing was left in it. Clean as a whistle. Brad then moved to the bedroom where John laid his head at night. A single bed, nicely made along with a chest of drawers was all that was evident as the closet was devoid of any clothing. He took a look at the bathroom and it was clean like the refrigerator. The other bedroom was totally empty. Nothing but an old faded yellow rug sat on the hardwood floor. Brad moved back to the living room and looked at all the books one by one. He told Mike again to list every book by author and title. Make sure each page is examined carefully. Better yet he told him to have the FBI pack them up along with the magazines and sent to their office.

  Brad sat in the rocker and stared at the blank TV while Mike, Billy and Sujin did their work. Jake stood next to the window and never said a word. Finally Brad broke the silence saying, “We need DNA and have your agents tear this place apart for evidence. Rip out the toilet and bathtub drain along with the kitchen sink for any trace of his original self.” Jake nodded at agent Jones and Jones took off to fill in the waiting FBI men.

  Brad returned to his thinking about John. Sujin had told him he was the best in the business at makeup and costumes. He got along fine with everyone and they were surprised when he said he needed a little vacation. A lot of questions came up while he sat there comfortably in John’s rocking chair. Not the question why, but where would he strike next; and when. Also what did he do for entertainment every day? Did she read books or watch TV? Read the newspapers. Go to the movies or wander around the shopping malls. What was he doing right now? No matter what Wendy said about him; some logic was following his trail and Brad was determined to jump on him given half a chance.