Sharon and I pull up to a mansion on Birdview Avenue in Malibu. It's a two-story brick home, four fireplaces, tiled ceramic roof, tennis court, and both an indoor and outdoor pool. There’s a wide curved driveway, a six-car garage with two Bentleys and a Maserati being washed and waxed outside by two men. The home and lot take up around four full acres.
Sharon pulled up after announcing herself at the front gate. Mark comes out the front door to greet us. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
"Nice expensive toys you have," I say.
"They were my grandfather's toys, not my style, but you should see the ones in the garage." He tells his two men to wash and wax the detective's car.
"No, it’s okay; I just had it detailed, so it doesn't need it," I say in an almost annoyed tone. "I'm not here to have my car washed; I'm here on official business."
"Sorry, was just trying to be nice," Mark says in an apologetic way. "Come on in," he says, as he turns as if to have us follow. We take the three marble steps down into the front room. Mark points for us to take a seat.
"First of all, where were you two nights ago?" I ask as Sharon, and I sit.
"Let's see, the night before last …." he raises his left hand and rubs his chin. "I was here."
"Can anyone confirm that?"
"Usually, my maid could, but she was off that night. So to answer your question, I guess that would be no." He glances to Mike with a puzzled look. "Why is it you need to know?"
"You knew Michelle Borne?"
"Yes, I know her. We used to date each other for about eight months; then we broke up."
"Didn’t you think she was too young for you?" I ask, looking to see what his reaction would be.
"Yes and no, to answer you. She was young in age but mature as a person. She was a lot of fun."
"Why did you break up?"
"We had some irreconcilable differences. We just decided to go our separate ways." He answers as he is still looking me straight in the eyes.
As I glance around, I notice a small photo of the group in hunting outfits, with orange hats and jackets, posing with three deer in front of them, and another picture with three turkeys.
"Why is it you asked if I knew her? Has anything happened to her?"
"You don't watch the news?"
"No, too depressing. Why?"
"And none of your friends emailed or contacted you?" I continue to look around the massive room with marble floors and fifteen-foot ceilings.
"Not that I know of, I haven't turned on my computer for a couple of days."
"Michelle was found dead downtown two nights ago."
"No, oh God no, what happened? How did she die?" He looks stunned.
"Watch the news and find out." I glance at Mark, not believing him, especially since he has no witness on his whereabouts. It's the feeling I got to his reaction. To me, he didn't show as much remorse as I would have expected.”
"How long ago did you break up?"
"Just a few weeks ago. Don't you read the tabloids?" Mark answers in a sarcastic manner.
"Don't get smart with me," I blurt out. Thinking, for some reason, I just don't like this man. But then I never like anyone who doesn't have an airtight alibi, much less someone with none at all.
"Do you know who she might have been meeting?"
"No, I don't. All I know, or at least feel, is we didn't break up because of someone else."
"Do you have any idea what she might have been doing or where she might have been two nights ago?"
"I don't know for sure. Usually Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays she liked to go out and jog. But since we broke up, she might have changed her routine. She usually ran with her dog." He looks out the window.
"We found your fingerprints on her belt. How do you account for that?"
"Which outfit was she wearing?" He looks back towards me.
"A black and white sharks tooth coat with a white skirt."
"The last time I saw her, she was dressed in that. I had put my arms around her waist and buckled her belt, and had mentioned to her she should put on a little weight."
"I hope you weren't planning on leaving town anytime soon," I say in a routine manner, as I get up from the leather couch and move towards the front door.
"If there is anything or any way I can be of help, please let me know. If she was murdered, I want to assist you in any manner I can."
"I'll keep that in mind." I walk through the front door and down to my car. My mind was running: was this guy trying to play me, offering help, or was it just a ploy to move from being the number one suspect?
"Have Paul run a full profile on him," I tell Sharon after driving off.
Chapter 12
Joel asks, "Well, how did it go?”
"I think it went very well. They are following my lead, and said they feel the murderer now the same way I do."
"You know, you never did tell me where you were when I called and told you about this part," Joel asks in an inquisitive tone.
"I told you. I needed some time off, to get away, just to be by myself."
"What about your wife. Doesn't she worry about you?"
"Are you kidding? That old bag of crap. That two-fisted, tight ass, chain-smoking bitch of an alcoholic. She doesn't care what I do or where I go, or for that matter who I'm with, just as long as it's not in the news. Then she's happy," Stephen says in a rambling fast-paced tone.
"Why did you marry her?"
"Her money. Well at least I thought I would have an open account of it, but boy was I wrong. Oh ya, she buys me the toys I want, like the cars I have. She also picks up the charge accounts for my taking my women out. But even then she puts a limit on it. Says if I go over, I have to pay for it. But I don’t get any cash, no savings, and no bank account like I thought I would. She’s just a cheap old bitch."
"Then why stay with her?"
"Believe me, if this part works out like I think it will, and if this is a long-running gig, I'm going to divorce that bitch and see what I can get out of her. And if I don’t get anything, well, at least I will have my own money to live on.”
"I told you before you married her you wouldn’t be happy."
"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you knew what the hell you were talking about."
"Did they tell you when they might have the scripts?"
"They said they would work on it night and day so that we could get shooting the first three episodes next week."
Chapter 13
"Wasn't Jacobs scheduled to fly in today? You know, the one who used to be with Patricia Wright?" I ask.
"I checked earlier this morning, and he’s on the flight," responds Paul.
I look over to Sharon, "Let's go pick him up and see what he knows."
"I'll get the car and meet you out front," She says, as she walks out of the office.
I pick up a folder Paul had printed out on John Jacobs. He even had it down to his eye color, shoe size, height, weight, along with his known hobbies.
We arrive at the airport and pull up right outside the arrival terminal and park with only the lights underneath the hood flashing. We both get out and walk into the arrival terminal. Both of us are looking at the pictures provided by Paul on my cell phone when we find him in a sea of people. You can easily tell when a group of arrivals was coming from a Hawaiian vacation. With so many of them wearing brightly colored, short-sleeved, flowered shirts for the men and muumuus for the women, along with lots of flowers and leis.
Sharon and I walk up next to him just as he is leaning forward to pick up his suitcase which is coming his way as the carousel rotates the luggage from his flight. Sharon steps forward and plucks his case off the moving slab of steel. John Jacobs quickly stands up and clenches, as if he is ready to take a swing at her. I pull his right shoulder back, getting him off balance. "If I were you, I would let her carry it for you, as you are coming with us."
Jacobs looks around and sees my badge. "What is this all about?" he asks in a questioning tone. Ja
cobs is a short, slender man with two weeks’ worth of whiskers, dressed in a bright red, flowered, short-sleeved shirt, Khaki pants, and flip-flops.
"Just come with us and you will see," I say in an assertive manner.
"I have one more case with my photography equipment in it." He tries to go back to the carousel.
"Hold it right there. She'll get it. Which one is it?" I’m holding his arm rather tight.
"It's the silver one right there," he says, just as a hard metal case is coming around the curve.
Sharon grabs hold of both cases. She carries the camera bag and pulls the larger one on its wheels by the strap.
We get to the car, and I place him in the back seat as Sharon places his case into the trunk. "How do you like this? Curb service," I say with a broad smile in a sarcastic way.
"If it were up to me, I'd rather take a taxi," John says in a disgusted tone.
I get in the back seat as I tell him to move over. Sharon gets in and drives out of the airport’s traffic congestion.
"Okay, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
"You remember Patricia Wright?"
"Of course, I do. She and I are seeing each other. Why?"
"Where were you two weeks ago on the 24th?"
"Hell, I don't know, I think that's the day I flew to Hawaii to do a photo shoot for a sports magazine."
"I know your flight took off at 5:44 PM. So where were you the four hours prior?"
"I had a taxi pick me up, and I went to the airport early. Why?"
"I'll ask the questions. Have you spoken to Ms. Wright?"
"I tried calling her cell, but she didn't answer."
"Why didn't you have her drive you to the airport?"
"She doesn't have a driver's license. I'm going to teach her as soon as she wants to learn. Now I'm getting worried. What happened to her?" he asks now with a troubled tone.
"You don't read the newspapers or watch the news when you are on your shoots?" I ask.
"Usually, I do, but this trip was such a short notice shoot, and I had to meet the models, set up a schedule and locations from where to do the shots. I chose the big isle and did my shots with the recent lava flows as the background. Now are you going to tell me what the hell this is all about?"
"Patricia was killed just a few hours before your flight to Hawaii. That is why all the questions."
"Oh no, oh God no. Not Patricia, not her. My God, what happened?"
"She was stabbed." As the car pulls up in front of John's apartment building. "Here you are. I will be following up with you in the near future. Are you planning on going on any other shoots?"
"No, I don't have any scheduled for right now. Besides, I want to go to her funeral." His eyes water and a tear roll down his cheek.
"Sorry to tell you, but she has already been buried."
Sharon leaves his two cases in front of the steps of his apartment building. He just goes over to the steps and sits on the third step and puts his head into his hands and bends forward and cries.
We drive away, back towards the office.
Chapter 14
Sharon breaks the short silence. "Seems like that hit him pretty hard. He sounded like he didn't know. Wouldn't you think some of the models would have mentioned the murder to him?"
"One would think. But like you said, he does indeed seem heartbroken. It seems like someone would have gotten in touch, to let him know, especially about the funeral. His friends should have gotten in touch with him, "he says, almost feeling sorry for him, "That is if he didn't know?"
Sharon adds, "No one should have to find out this way, from a total stranger and a policeman besides."
"We'll still need to keep him on the radar."
We finally arrive back at the office. Upon walking in, I ask, "Paul, check to see if there is any surveillance of John Jacobs getting to the airport four hours early. Also, make sure he wasn’t on any other return flights prior to today. He could have purchased a round trip ticket from Hawaii, back to LAX, only to do these killings. I don’t know if it takes two weeks to do a shoot."
I notify Sharon, Paul, and Susan to join me in the conference room in twenty minutes.
After all, arrive, I start. "Okay, what have we got? We got zilch, nada, nothing. The most we have is a partial palm and a couple of fingerprints off a dress. This person has left almost no evidence for us to use. Can anyone really be this careful?"
Susan starts first. "He will make a mistake. Yes, he is very careful, but nobody's perfect. Believe me; he will make a mistake, and I will find it. I promise you."
"I checked all flights within the time frame for John Jacobs that flew out of Honolulu with a direct flight to LAX and no hits. He must have been shooting those girls for the sports magazine like he said," Paul says, as he turns towards Sharon.
"I don't have anything to offer," Sharon says in an apologetic manner.
"What are we missing? Sharon, you come with me. We’re going back to Gracie Tan's, Barbara Akin’s, and Patricia Wright’s, and if need be also back to Michelle Borne's. There must be a connection we’re missing. Other than the obvious of all four being Oscar winners. Paul, look one more time
on John's flight; I have a feeling he came back. Susan, I just hope there isn't another body for you to have to examine. But if there is, let's pray he leaves us something and he or they get a bit careless."
Chapter 15
Sharon and I drive back to Gracie's home. Her home would sell in the neighborhood of ten million dollars. The home is on Cliffside Drive, just a half a mile from Mark Jacobson's mansion and right across the street from Patricia Wright’s. The home sits right on the white sandy beach on Dume Cove. It is a two-story French-style home, four fireplaces, with maid's quarters at one end and a swimming pool on the other side towards the beach area; with a long wide stone driveway. She had been in a long-running daytime TV series, Oh So Bold. She had won two Emmys for her performances, and there were reported death threats in the Enquirer because some of the runner-ups got a little testy about hers being back to back. The public also thinks Susan Lucci of All My Children should have gotten her second one before her. After all, Ms. Lucci has played her part for over 23 years and has only received one Emmy after being nominated dozens of times. So a lot of women think Gracie Tan got her award under the covers, so to speak.
The front door is still sealed, so Sharon pulls out a knife and slits the tape down the crack of the front door and proceeds to enter.
"Before, we didn't look here for any connection with the others, as she was the first one killed. So now we will look for anything that might just connect her, either with the same man or with the other actresses." I move towards the family room, and Sharon goes up the stairway to review Gracie's bedroom.
As I take the three steps down to the family room, I get a tremendous surprise.
"Who the hell are you?" The elderly lady in front of me yells out loud enough to wake up the dead.
"Don't hurt me, please. I don’t have any money," she says, shaking and raising her hands above her head.
"I'm the police. Now, who are you?"
She sits on a chair which was close by. "I'm Martha. I'm the Tans' housekeeper."
Sharon comes with a gun in hand around the corner.
"Oh my, are you going to shoot me?" Martha asks Sharon with the pistol still pointing at her, putting her hands back up.
"Who are you?"
"She's the housekeeper," I explain. "Go back upstairs and see what you find out."
She leaves the room, holstering her pistol, and heads back up the steps.
"Didn't you see the tape on the front door?"
"I'm not allowed to come in that way. I come in the back door as I always do. They always say it doesn't look good for the neighbors or guests to see me coming in the front door."
"How long have you worked for them?"
"I've been with Mr. Tan for over twenty years."
"And you stayed on after he got married to Graci
e?" I ask.
"Yes, as well as the four before her."
"You know you are not supposed to be in here?"
"I have to get this cleaned up before his arrival."
"Where is Mr. Tan?"
"He's out of the country and isn't scheduled to be back until tomorrow," is her reply.
"We couldn't find him on any manifest."
"He has his own private plane."
"You do know what happened to Mrs. Tan, right?" I ask concerned maybe she hadn't heard.
"Oh, yes, I saw it on the news."
"And?" I wonder if she will come up with any reaction.
"I texted Mr. Tan and let him know right away."
"What was his reaction?"
"He said he will still be back at his scheduled time," she mentioned without any emotion.
I thought: this is some cold lady.
I leave the maid to do her job, as I go about my business.
Dozens and dozens of pictures lined the walls, and on the imported marble fireplace from Italy's mantel. Every wall has someone else's pictures along with hers. I look closer now to see if any photos had any images of the other ladies, or perhaps the same men, in them. I take out my small digital camera to take a snapshot of all of the pictures in the home.
Sharon goes through all of the boxes and files in the closets once again, just looking for something which can place Gracie with any of the other victims. After the master bedroom of Ms. Tan's, she moves to the other four bedrooms down the hall. Several bedrooms had nothing other than a king-size bed for guests along with matching dressers, side tables, and a writing desk by the windows; all their closets were empty other than hanging wooden hangers.
After two hours of searching through the upstairs bedrooms, she comes downstairs looking for me. She finds me in the library, taking pictures of even the volumes of books on the shelves.
"I'm done with looking around the bedrooms." Sharon walks into the room. "What have you found?" She looks around. "Where is the maid?"
The Hollywood Serial Killers: A Mike Kane Mystery Series Page 4
