“No, I haven’t. I was making mental notes for the script on the way over. Why?”
“Come here. It’s your school buddy; they are just talking about it.” He motions Stephen to come closer to the screen hanging down from the ceiling.
The news comes back on from its last commercial. “Now for the local news. A prominent local photographer is found dead. The photographer John Jacobs was found slain early this morning around 2 AM, across the street from the four-story Los Angeles Mission Center for the homeless in the fourteen hundred block of Bronson Avenue. Police think it could have been a robbery which went wrong, probably for his camera equipment. A broken lens with no camera was found near the body. It is thought he was doing a piece on the homeless throughout Los Angeles. Police are now interviewing all in the area, to see if anyone saw anything. If you saw anything concerning the attack on Mr. Jacobs, please either call this station or 911. We will continue to follow this story and keep you abreast of any new developments.”
“Oh shit no, they did it,” were the first words uttered out of Stephen’s mouth. “Why in the hell did they have to do that?”
“What was it you just said?” As Joel walks closer, “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Stephen looks up, tears in his eyes as well as anger. “Tell them I’ll be back for the readings later. Let them know the reason, that one of my best friends was just killed.” He turns around and heads out the double doors, back to his car.
Chapter 33
The phone rings around five in the morning. I ask “why I am being called, I’m on a special case for the Hollywood serial killings, and you're calling me about a man.”
As Sharon picks me up, “Did you hear the local news this morning?”
“I heard if you're referring to John Jacobs.” As I slip into the back seat of my car. “I was called this morning. I had his body taken to Susan. I hope and pray she will find something that will lead us to the murder.”
“Are you thinking the same thing I am?” she asks, as she drives towards the front gate.
“I’m sure I am.” I look at her via the rear view mirror. “We know he was over to Mark’s yesterday.”
“Maybe we can get that smug son-of-a-bitch,” she snaps back with disdain.
“Let’s see what Susan has.”
Sharon catches up with me after parking the car. The first thing we do is proceed down to the morgue. “Did you find anything?” I ask, as soon as we walk through the glass doors.
“The time of death was around 3 PM yesterday. The top of his head was blown half off, as you can see. Quite a mess; no bullet was found, as it was a through and through. The only place you will find the bullet is at the original crime scene. His body wasn’t reported being found until after six this morning,” Susan begins, “and it looks to me that he was shot while taking a shower. His hair was damp and had traces of unrinsed dandruff shampoo in his hair. He was shot up close and personal; he didn’t know what hit him.”
“Less than an hour or so after we left Mark’s home.” I glance at Susan, “Anything else?” I ask.
“He was dressed by someone else, as his pants were buckled too loose around his waist, and his shoes were unevenly tied. If he had walked around, his pants would have slipped down.” She concludes, “But the strangest thing the murderers didn’t think of was there is no blood on his shirt, as there would have been, had he been shot dressed.”
“Sounds like a real blunder, not one Mr. Jacobson would likely have made.” I turn around and look at Sharon.
“It makes sense and then again it doesn’t,” Sharon adds to the conversation.
“I agree, especially right after we were there asking him about Jacobs. If he did do it, why?” I look down at the body in front of me. “A smart man would never have taken such a chance. Unless we were getting close to something, something more than just Jacobs possibly being the murderer of the movie stars. Jacobs was beginning to be too much of a liability.”
“Maybe we're closer than we think,” Sharon mentions as she looks at me.
“Seems you may be right.” I look back at the body, “Susan, as soon as we get a search warrant, we'll need you to be with us. We’ll call you to meet us over there.”
We head up to our office. “Call Judge Heathcliff and get the warrant, then we'll head back over to Mark's.” I hold the door for Sharon to enter.
She gets on her phone and is told just as soon as we get there; it will be ready for pickup.
“Okay, Mike, we can pick it up on the way,” as she hangs up.
“Paul, give Susan a call and tell her we’ll meet there in 25 minutes.” We walk out the door.
As Sharon and I approach the front of the gate, after swinging by and securing the warrant, Susan is already on hand in her red and white crime scene search vehicle. We pull up, announce ourselves, and the gates swing open to allow our entrance.
Again, Mark greets us at the front. “Boy, I see you come prepared.” He eyes Susan’s vehicle pulling up behind our car. “I guess offering you all a drink, this time, would be out of the question?” he says with a smirk on his face.
“You would be right there.” I place the warrant into his hand as it's stretched forward for a handshake.”
He reads over the folded document. “If you wanted to search my showers in my primary home, all you had to do was ask.” he folds the papers in half and places them into his hip pocket. “What right do you feel you have to search my home?” he asks, as all of us are walking past him.
“Probable cause,” I return.
“Probable cause of what?” He follows us into the foyer.
“Of murder,” I say bluntly.
“And who might that be?” Again he gives me that you can’t catch me, I’m too smart for you attitude.
“John Jacobs.”
“Jacobs, my John Jacobs. Is he dead?” he asks, trying to sound surprised.
“Yes, John Jacobs. I saw him enter your side door yesterday afternoon as we were driving up,” I point to Susan to go upstairs and Sharon to look over the downstairs rooms for any showers.
“You know he is a good friend of mine and comes over here quite often. So what if he was here yesterday?” he asks.
“He was found dead early this morning.” That's the last question I'm going to answer until we search all the bathrooms.
It's about thirty minutes before Susan comes downstairs after Sharon has already joined Mark and me on the veranda.
“I took swabs of everything. But right now, Mike, I would have to say I didn’t find any blood spatters on the walls. I did find one blood drop in Mark’s master suite.” She is trying to whisper next to my ear.
“Oh, that. Yes, I cut myself shaving this morning. What were you expecting to find, Detective Kane?” He sits and swings his left leg over the arm of the chair.
“Evidence of John’s murder,” I respond.
“Now why would I go and have one of my best friends murdered?” He has a twinkle in his eye, just looking like he is trying to bait us.
Just then a loud jackhammer noise comes from the pool house. I step out a bit further towards the pool area and see some men loading up a truck with concrete blocks.
“What’s happening over there?” I motion for Susan to bring her kit.
“Nah, nah, nah. You can’t search the pool house, as the warrant only specifies the primary home only.” He waves the folded warrant without even getting up out of his chair.
I still walk around the pool and over to the contractor who is in charge of the three workmen. “Do you have a permit to work on this?” I look him in the eye.
“Don’t need one, as I’m not adding on, just reconfiguring what is already there,” he replies.
“What are you working on exactly?” I ask.
“Updating the bathroom in the bathhouse, the fixtures, floors, piping, and shower,” is his response.
“When did you get the call to work on this project?” I ask, already kn
owing the answer.
“Got a call yesterday afternoon and was told this is a rush job, as he is having some company flying in in a couple of days. So I got some extra help to get the job done.”
I look around to Mark and call across the pool. “You had mentioned I wouldn’t have needed the warrant to search your home. Are you giving me permission to test the pool house?”
“Ah, no. As I said, I would have gladly given you permission to search my home. But since you didn’t ask nicely, I will have to say no to anything further that is not within the premise of the warrant.”
I looking back to the contractor, “How many loads have you already taken away?”
“Three so far.” He tells one of his workers to pick up the glass from a broken mirror before someone cuts themselves. “We have only to finish breaking up the concrete floor now, as we have already taken away all the side walls, the roofing, the shower tiles and the plumbing pipes.”
“Where did you take the loads?”
“We took each load to a different site for dumping,” He replies.
“Why to three different sites?” I ask in a lower tone.
“I was explicitly told to. Told to make sure I unload it evenly in several different spots within the dump sites.”
“Didn’t that seem like a strange request?”
“Look, before me, my father worked for the Jacobson family. I’ve worked for them for almost thirty years. I worked for Mark’s grandfather, and now for him. So when he calls, I answer. He asks me to do something special, I comply. After all, he’s the one that pays me, and I might add, quite well.”
I walk over to where the pool house is partially standing, only to find where the shower and bath area once were, the concrete floors had been ripped up. Even the shower walls have been demolished, and all the piping has been dug up and removed. I look to see what is left in the back of the pickup. The only materials there didn’t strike me as having any evidence, as it seems the first three loads are the ones that carried away any trace of materials which meant anything. I know Mark had killed John or had him killed, and the proof was just taken and dumped in three different landfills—all done to get rid of any evidence.
I can feel my blood pressure rising, as I walk back around the pool towards the girls.
“Come on, let’s leave.” I motion to the two of them to follow me.
“Don’t leave mad, Detective.” As we are leaving, I could just feel that shitty ass grin of his behind my back. “Just leave.”
Chapter 34
As the gates open, a black Mercedes convertible comes racing in, almost hitting Susan’s vehicle. It swerves out of the way just in time and passes our car running out onto the grass.
“Who the hell was that?” Sharon yells out.
“Stop the car and let’s see.” I turn around in my back seat to look through the rear window.
As I watch, a man gets out without closing the car’s door. I can see he is very pissed by the manner in which he is walking. He is being greeted by Mark, who puts out his hand. The man instead takes a swing at him, only to miss his target as Mark moves his head off to one side. Mark grabs the man’s arm and pins it behind his back and leads him into the house.
“Backup, Sharon, I want to see who he is and if there is going to be any more trouble here,” I say. She puts the car into reverse and backs up the curved driveway.
I get out of the car and walk up to the front door. Mark again greets me.
“Oh, Hello, Detective, I thought you had left. Do you have another warrant?” he says again with that smirk.
“I just came back to see if there is any trouble. Is there?” I try to look past him. He seems to be intentionally blocking my view.
“No problem, just a friend of mine stopping by.”
“When I looked back, he didn’t seem very friendly, seemed quite upset about something.”
“He’s no problem. He just wanted a drink real bad.”
I turn around and get back to the car. “Sharon?”
“Already have it. The license plates show the owner as Stephen Gray, the TV actor.” She has already anticipated what I was about to ask. “He’s one of the five that are in the pictures.”
“I have a good sense of what the problem is.” We drive through the gates and head back towards the office.
I call Susan and tell her to meet us up in my office after getting back.
Once everyone is there, I begin. “What do we know about these cases? When I say that I am including John Jacob’s along with the four women, as I am confident they are all connected.” We look up at the screen photos, of the women and the five sitting in the chair.
Susan starts first. “We know all have been killed in a similar manner, with a stab in the back of the neck. With the exception of Mr. Jacobs.” As Paul is typing this up on the screen.
“The women were all killed someplace else, then placed out for public display,” Sharon adds.
Paul comments, “The individual who drops off the bodies has the computer skills to create a device to halt the taping of street surveillance.”
Sharon jumps in again. “Three of the five men in the picture all knew and dated the three women, with Michelle Borne dating two of the three.” She adds, “The men all went to school together and are or were the best of friends, and other than John living downtown, two of the women and Mark live within walking distance.”
“They all had photographs taken by John Jacobs,” Paul mentions while making the three photos of the women stand out, making the images grow larger and smaller individually on the screen. “And according to the pictures, they enjoyed going hunting together, both deer and turkey, as well as deep sea fishing.”
“All right, what else?” I point to Paul to stop the antics on the screen. “What motives do we have, and who is our number one suspect to date?”
“As far as I’m concerned, Mark is the number one suspect.” As I figured, Sharon says it.
“Well, up until John’s murdered body showed up, I was betting he did it,” Paul adds.
“It’s more than one person, someone who hates these women more than anything,” Susan says. “But as yet, I don’t see where any of these men fits that description.”
I stand up and turn around to look at all three of them. “I knew Sharon would bring up Mark, as he seems to be the leader of the group, as far as we know. And I don’t like him either.” I look straight at Paul. “I also agree with Paul, because Sharon and I both saw that John had a quick temper and didn’t seem like he was able to control himself. But with that being said, and as Susan pointed out, I don’t think that he could have killed all these women, not by himself. There has to be someone else.” I pull up my chair again and straddle it like a saddle. “We have to look at all of these people again. Along with the deceased, to include the other four men, three of whom we know by name, leaving the one we know nothing about. So the next couple of days let’s focus on the men.” I get up from the chair and walk over to get my cup coffee.
I point to Susan. “I want you to find out everything and anything you can on that fifth man and more on Patricia Wright, Michelle Borne, Gracie Tan, and Barbara Akin.”
“Paul, you check on David Brenner, Mark Jacobson, and Stephen Gray. You–” I point now to Sharon. “You’re to find out more about this John Jacobs, Mr. Tan, and work with Susan on the fifth man. Does anyone have anything to add?” I look around to see if even a glint in their eyes or a movement of their bodies indicate if they are thinking about saying something.
“All right then, get busy and let’s find out who we are looking for.” I slide off the table and walk out of the office. “I have to brief the commander.”
I leave my office, walk to the end of the block, round the corner, and enter his office. I go over all of the information we know, which to date isn’t as much as I had hoped for by now. He dismisses me and tells me to keep working on it, as the mayor is on his back.
Chapter 35
The next d
ay at the Fox studio, Stephen Gray is back, still upset about what had happened to one of his life-long friends. Joel asks, “I’m sorry about your friend. Do you feel up to even working today?”
“I think I better. Hopefully, it will take my mind off what has happened. And to answer your question, no, I don’t feel like working. I feel like shit,” Stephen answers with his red bloodshot eyes.
Mr. Sharp comes down to give Stephen his condolences. He looks at him and says, “Stephen, you can’t work today; your eyes are too red and will show up on the screen. Come back tomorrow, but for tonight, here, read the script and be ready, okay?”
Stephen looks up. “Thanks for the condolence. And I suppose you're right. Thanks, I’ll be ready tomorrow.” He looks back at Joel.
Stephen drives home. After he passes Gracie Tan’s and Patricia Wright's homes, he goes past three more homes and pulls into his drive. As the gates open, he pulls in and parks his car. He enters his home and locks the door behind him.
As he walks past the entry, “Hello, Stephen,” David Brenner says in a tone which sent cold shivers through Stephen’s bones.
“What the hell are you doing here? Are you planning on killing me too?” Stephen spins around, looking straight at David and glancing around to see what he could use to defend himself.
“No, just stopped by to tell you, I didn’t want to do it.”
“Oh sure, I suppose Mark just twisted your arm.”
“No, but you know what would have happened if we didn’t.”
“Still, I think we should have talked it over as a group, and voted on it,” Stephen says, being relieved, knowing David wasn’t there to kill him. “We all grew up together. Remember with John just living up the street, and you would come over? You, Mark, Jerry, and John, we would all meet either here at my house. Or we would run down to John’s or run up to Jerry’s or even Mark's, have pool parties, sleepovers, beer bashes. We went hunting together, boating, movies, proms, we did everything together. You were the only one who didn’t live here in this area. Hell, we were the best of friends. We were all as one. We made a pact we would take care of each other, cover each other's backs, no matter what,” he blurts out. “What have we come to, killing one of our own?”
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