She slid the document across the table to Erickson who was just finishing his food. He picked it up and read it and then asked, “So, my cooperating will get me points with your office and the judge?” he asked.
“The fact that you are cooperating will be made known to both the D.A. and the judge. It can only go in your favor,” she replied.
Erickson thought about it for another moment and then picked up a pen, signed the document, and slid it back to the prosecutor. Ms. Jenkins verified the signature and then nodded to Sam.
Sam finished his dinner, and cleared the table of the trash and sat back down with his pad open. “Mr. Erickson, are you now ready to answer questions regarding the deaths of Jazmon Williams, Bertram Holder, and Wadsworth Brighton?” Sam asked.
“Yes, I suppose so. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start at the beginning. When did you first meet these gentlemen?”
“Gentlemen? Ha! That’s rich. If you mean when did I first meet these backstabbing son of bitches, it was 1964 at Yale University and we were all struggling to make it at a white man’s university in the 60s. They all excelled in their individual areas and were noticed. I was selected for membership because I fit the category of a person no one had ever heard of before. Quite an honor, no?”
“So each of you were tapped for membership into the Skull and Bones Fraternity in 1965, correct?”
“Yeah, that’s right. It was supposed to open doors and create a whole new future for anyone who got in. That worked fine for my three brothers but not for this brother. Williams was selected as President, he made the other two guys officers in the fraternity, and ignored me totally. It seems I didn’t fit into the social strata that the others came from and I was relegated to the role of court jester. No, they did me wrong and I’ll never forgive them for not looking out for me as they did with each other.”
“All three of the others ended up in the criminal court system in New York City. Did you hate the courts and anyone who worked for them?” Sam asked.
“Hell no, had nothing to do with where they worked. It had everything to do with them becoming successful in their chosen field because Williams looked out for the other two and got them in with him. To graduate from Yale used to mean something—it meant success. Williams became a judge and the others worked with him. Me, I got fucked. When I graduated, my membership in the Bonesmen meant nothing to no one.”
“Well, what did you do then since you didn’t go into the court system?”
“I went to work for a florist in midtown. It paid just enough to live off of in those days and as I worked hard and learned the trade, I ended up buying the place and then I made it a very successful business. But, I never had the money to send my son to Yale or any other good university for that matter. My boy had to go to City College.”
“Did that make you angry that you couldn’t send your son to some place like Yale?”
“Hell yeah it did. I wanted the best for my kid, and I couldn’t do it on what I made when he was ready to go to college. The Williams kid got a good education though—oh yeah, Daddy made sure he got whatever he wanted so that his life would be successful. He’s a fancy-ass professor, not a florist like my kid. But that’s all right; at least my kid didn’t turn out gay.”
“What has that got to do with this case?”
“Anderson Williams is gay and I saw him getting fucked by some white guy!”
“Mr. Erickson, how is it that you saw Anderson Williams getting fucked by anyone?”
“That loser I hired, Evans, he put a camera in the kid’s house and caught him on tape getting banged. I laughed my ass off when I saw that!”
“So you hired Mr. Evans to gather evidence on Mr. Williams that would embarrass him? Why?” Sam asked.
“I wanted to throw a roadblock up for that kid of Jazmon’s. He had it too damn easy and I wanted him to taste the reality of life, that’s why. He needed to know that life wasn’t fair.”
“I was going to send that tape to where he works, and to the media and anywhere else I could. I hate that damn kid; he represents everything that got away from me when I was shunned by the Bonesmen. He’ll still get his, you watch.”
“Now the big question Mr. Erickson. Did you kill Jazmon Williams and the other two men?”
“Yeah, I did it. Made them suffer too, just like they made me suffer all those years ago. They made their lives good off of the Skull and Bones Fraternity, and they died as a symbol to the Tomb!”
“Why did you wait all those years to exact your revenge? All three men were about to retire from their profession; you didn’t stop anything really.”
“Just when they were about to enjoy their cushy retirements that they all worked so hard for, I cut them off from the good life. Their lives ended like mine existed, in misery. My only regret is I didn’t get to destroy the Williams kid. Did you know that this kid even appears in videos? Damn music videos, like he was some rock star or something. Yea, he’s got this good friend of his that produces that trash, and he put Williams in some of them. Beyoung or something.”
“How on earth did you learn about all that?” Sam asked with a little concern.
“That loser Evans. I had him follow the Williams kid for a week once and report back on his movements and friends. I wanted to set him up good and I figured if he was into drugs or something, I could use that to hurt him.”
“So, Evans gathered a lot of information on your victims and then you acted on that information. Did he know what you used the information for?”
“No, that dumb shit bought the cover story that I fed him and he performed like a little paid robot.”
“So your friend wasn’t in on your plans for killing these men in any way?”
“Friend? That’s a laugh. I was going to kill that fuck today, but you all intervened. Why do you think I had a switchblade on me? I figured on killing him there and you guys would chalk it up to some lovers’ quarrel or something. He was nothing to me but a loose end that I didn’t get a chance to tie up.”
“Okay, this has been bugging the hell out of me, you gotta answer this one: what is the deal with the damn orchids?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow waiting on the answer.
“Ah, yes, the orchids. Well, as you can probably see in those pictures you got there, that particular type of orchid was always in evidence at the Tomb where the Bonesmen met. It was kinda like both a status symbol as well a good omen kinda thing. Whenever we had a big meeting on something or a ceremony, fresh orchids were always brought in. Williams made the thing the official flower of the Bonesmen. I felt it only proper that it also be present at their deaths! Since I owned a florist business, it was nothing for me to get the same type of orchid that retails for over twenty dollars a stem. Call it my signature if you will,” Erickson replied with a prideful sneer. “I put it on their beds because I knew they would never be sleeping in them again,” he continued.
“May I suggest a short break Detective Morgan?” asked Ms. Jenkins.
“Of course,” responded Sam.
“Mr. Erickson, do you promise to behave yourself for a couple minutes or do they need to put you back into the cage?” asked the A.D.A.
“Nah, I’m fine, I’m not gonna start any trouble,” he replied.
They all got up and as they exited, Jennings grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him away from the general direction of his office. Roger reacted quickly and stayed with them.
“What’s on your mind Ms. Jenkins?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know. I have a feeling that something is not quite right. Doesn’t it trouble you that he is sitting there and putting himself in prison for life without parole with little concern for himself?” she asked.
“Well, he thinks we have him nailed and he is trying to earn brownie points with the judge, don’t forget,” answered Roger.
“Okay. I’m going to type up a general statement for him to sign confessing to the murders so that we have it on paper. That way if he tried to t
ell a different story later, we’ll have his confession. Let’s get back and see if he will agree to sign it. We have enough to charge him but I want it airtight.”
Chapter Fourteen
When they opened the door, Sam just began talking. “Mr. Erickson…..”
“Fuck! He’s gone! Roger, why didn’t you lock the damn door?” Sam yelled.
Sam and Roger ran through the precinct looking for their suspect and were unable to locate him. They checked with the desk sergeant who said that he did not see anyone fitting Erickson’s description leave the building by the front door.
The entire station house was on alert and searching everywhere but no one could locate the suspect. They did find an open window on the second floor that looked down on a trash dumpster and it was assumed that Erickson made his escape that way.
An APB was issued to arrest the suspect on sight for murder. Sam ran though the detectives unit, cursing up a storm as the A.D.A. called her office to inform them that the suspect had escaped. That was another charge when they got him back and could add another ten years. Of course, he was already looking at life without parole.
“Sam, should we hit the street? Where would he go?” asked Roger.
“I haven’t a clue. I doubt if he’ll go home, but he may try and contact Evans. I’ll see if I can get him on the phone.”
When Evans answered his phone, Sam practically screamed at the man. “Have you heard from Erickson in the last ten minutes?”
“No, should I have? I thought you had him in custody?”
“He escaped through a window and is now on the loose. Look, he confessed to killing and chopping up three people. If he calls you, try and get him to agree to meet you somewhere. Tell him you’ll try and help him get out of the country. You do that, and I’ll get all charges dropped against you!”
“Deal. Watch your phone.” Evans hung up and Sam sat down. “Where in the fuck would that psycho go, knowing the entire police department is looking for him?” he asked Roger.
“I don’t even have a guess at this point,” replied Roger.
Like a lightning bolt hitting a tree, Sam knew the answer to his question.
“Come on, Roger, let’s go. And grab a shotgun, I know where the bastard is heading!”
As they ran to their cruiser, Sam was busy punching in Anderson’s cell phone number and when he didn’t get an answer, he remembered that Andy still didn’t have a working cell phone. What was Byune’s phone number again? He couldn’t remember it, and he knew it was unlisted.
They jumped into the cruiser and sped off with lights and sirens blaring. He picked up the radio mic and requested the nearest uniform patrol be dispatched to the address they were heading to in hopes of preventing an attack on Anderson.
It was like a pain kicking him the gut. His heart took an almost painful lurch and Sam knew then that if anything happened to Anderson he would lose it. There was nothing in his life at that moment that was more important that saving Anderson. Catching the bad guy, getting there without ramming another vehicle on the street all took a back seat to the burning anger that raced through his veins. His heart slammed against his chest, his muscles twisted and his eyes stayed glued on the street.
“Damn!” Roger called.
Traffic was a nightmare as usual, only this night, traffic was not making way for the cruiser as the siren continued its plaintive wail. “Fuck! Why don’t these bastards clear a path! I hate driving in this fucking town, I really do!” Sam screamed at the top of his lungs.
Running out of patience, Sam drove the cruiser up onto the sidewalk and carefully drove down and around the impacted traffic. People moved quickly out of the way when they confronted a moving police car on their sidewalk. With a large bump, the drove off the sidewalk at the intersection and moved once again through the streets.
Dispatch advised back that they had no one to send to Byung’s address, as all units were tied up on a suspicious package at Macy’s. Sam slammed the steering wheel in frustration as he continued to push the limits of safe driving.
“How much further do we have to go?” asked Roger above the scream of the siren.
“At least another seven blocks,” Sam answered.
“Well, if Erickson was headed to this location, he had to fight the same traffic that we are fighting and so I doubt he will get there much ahead of us!”
“I won’t feel better until I have Anderson safely under my protection from this lunatic. Hell we can’t even warn him that death may be headed his way. I’m going to buy him another cell phone and staple it to his ass!”
Sam knew his partner and knew for a fact that Roger would tease him about that later—when the danger was over—if it ended well. At that moment he brought his mind back to the task at hand. Finally, they were within a block of B’s address and Sam cut the siren off and continued to push his way the last block of the run. They double parked about five houses from B’s, left the cruiser and ran up to the house.
“Roger, you go around back and make sure he’s not waiting in the bushes or something. Be careful; remember this guy cuts people up for fun!”
Roger moved off and Sam looked the area over quickly and not seeing anyone in the shadows, he moved up onto the steps to Bee’s house. He noticed immediately that the door was not closed tightly and knew instantly that Erickson had beaten them to the house. Sam drew his 9-mm Glock and as quietly as possible, pushed open the door and listened.
The first thing he heard was Andy and B talking in what sounded like the kitchen. Their voices were calm and it was a normal sounding conversation without any note of stress in their voices. Sam began to relax just a bit.
Sam followed the voices which led to exactly where he thought they were: in the kitchen. As he peered around the corner expecting to see the two friends sipping wine and talking, he found instead both men on their knees with the suspect standing over them pointing a gun at their heads.
“Come in Detective Morgan, come in! I had a feeling you would be right behind me when I got here. And look who I found! Williams and the good friend. You asked me why I did that thing with the cameras on our friend here, and I told you I wanted to throw up a roadblock in his life. Well, I’m gonna throw up an even bigger roadblock now. I’m gonna let you watch me kill this fucker, but first his boyfriend here,” he said as he shifted the gun towards Byung’s head.
Roger, who was watching the whole event unfold, shoved the shotgun through the kitchen window to distract Erickson, who wheeled around to confront the danger coming at him from the side. When he did that, Sam took possibly the only chance he would have to save Anderson and Byung.
He quickly went into a shooting stance, and fired one round into Erickson’s right temple. The force of the bullet knocked the suspect over which made him drop the gun onto the floor. He never had a chance to fire even one round from his own gun.
“Oh yeah—police! Freeze or I’ll shoot!” said Sam.
Roger quickly entered the house from the back door and both B and Andy fled the now blood splattered kitchen. Sam put his weapon away and checked the suspect for any signs of life and found none. Daniel Erickson was dead before he hit the floor.
As Roger called the shooting in to the precinct, Sam turned towards Byung and Andy and asked, “Didn’t I tell you guys to never let a stranger into your houses?”
They both smiled at the attempt at humor and then B ran to his bathroom to throw up. Anderson walked over to Sam and threw his arms around him and kissed him on the lips. When they heard sirens responding to the call, Anderson walked over to a large sofa in the living room and sat down. He looked back at Sam and asked, “Is it all over?”
“Yeah Andy, it’s all over.”
Anderson glanced at Byung, who was standing at the door with his arms folded over his chest. Anderson gave him a smile and Byung smirked, “I’m fine, Big Poppa, relax would you?”
A frown passed over Anderson’s tired lips and he shook his head turning the frown into a smile. “S
orry. You know I worry over you.”
“I know. But as you can see, I’m still standing.”
With a nod of his head, Anderson melted into the seat.
* * * *
He had just seen a man take a bullet to the head and all they could do there is drill him. No wonder some people hate cops. They didn’t care about his mental state or anything else. They plugged away asking what had happened in regards to Sam. So many damn people talking to him at the same time—there were questions, questions and more questions when all Anderson wanted to do was take a shower and curl up in bed. Still the Internal Affairs guys kept asking him questions. As though they wanted to pin something on Sam and there was no way Anderson would let that happen. He answered the questions as politely as he could, forcing a tight hold on his rapidly deteriorating temper. Finally they were all finished, evidence was collected and the medical examiner removed the body. But Byung’s living room was still a crime scene. Byung had made sure that Anderson was all right before heading over to a hotel. Anderson understood that the Asian pop icon couldn’t be there when the media descended on the large house like a plague. He finally relaxed again.
“Andy, we need to talk,” Sam’s voice was a hoarse whisper and that caught Anderson’s immediate attention. “It’s about what happened today.”
Jack came barging in through the door and sent Sam’s hand to his hip holster. Anderson knew he was going for his gun, but it seemed he had forgotten that they had collected his gun for evidence.
“Jesus, Jack! You could have gotten your frigging head blown off,” Anderson frowned.
“Say what now?” Jack questioned with an arched brow.
“We just had someone break in; you don’t just barge through a door with a cop on the other end. Everyone is still jumpy,” Anderson explained. “Jack Masterson, meet—”
The Orchid Murders Page 18
