“I’m open to suggestions,” Jefferson answered.
“It’s here,” Marcie interjected referring to the names on the board. “That’s the only thing that makes any sense. Otherwise, what, someone’s randomly murdering judges, lawyers and this guy who was a jury foreman? That’s too much of a stretch.”
“What do I tell the chief and the mayor, three victims in three days?”
“Tell them it’s time to be honest. Tell them we have a serial on the loose,” Jefferson said. “We’ve contacted everyone we can think of who might be connected to Traynor’s trial…”
Jefferson’s cell phone went off, he looked at the ID and answered it.
“You wanted a run down on Howie Traynor?” he heard the head of the surveillance unit, Lieutenant Rod Schiller say.
“Yeah, what do you have? We got another one last night.”
“I heard,” Schiller replied. “We picked him up yesterday at the church at 4:10. My guy was there by 3:00. Traynor’s car was in the lot and he came out of the church at 4:10.
“We took him straight home and he stayed there until 5:45. He went to a gym called A Plus Workout. He was there from 6:00 until 7:25. On the way home he stopped at a small grocery store. He was in the store for twelve minutes. From there he went straight home and didn’t come out.”
“Did you sit on him all night, Rod?”
“Yeah, including a guy in the alley. He didn’t come out and his car didn’t move.”
“Shit. Well, thanks Rod.”
“We’ll stay on him.”
When he finished the call Kane said, “I take it there was nothing there.”
“No,” Jefferson replied then told the two women what Schiller told him.
“So, it’s not Traynor,” Kane said.
“Unless he’s working with someone else,” Marcie said.
“I just thought of something,” Jefferson said. He picked up his phone and dialed a number he had recently memorized. It was answered on the third ring.
“What’s up? I heard you got another one, third one in three days,” Jefferson heard Tony Carvelli say.
“Yeah and it’ll be a shitstorm around here and soon. Listen, you know Traynor’s ex-lawyer,” he continued. “Do me a favor. Call him and ask him if Julian Segal had anything to do with that trial; anything at all to do with Traynor.”
“Is that who it was?” Carvelli asked. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yeah, we’ll release that later today. Keep it to yourself for now, okay? Will you call him for me?”
“Sure, no problem. He’d talk to you. He’s a good guy, not your normal defense lawyer but I’ll call him and call you right back.”
About the same time Owen Jefferson was identifying the third victim in three days, Marc Kadella was arriving at his office. His burglary trial had been resolved with a last-minute plea bargain. His client pleaded guilty to third-degree burglary which is still a felony. The judge agreed to a sentence of eighteen months in prison and suspended twelve months of it. As part of his three years of supervised probation, he agreed to complete an accredited drug rehab program. He would also submit to random drug testing and remain law-abiding. If he did this, the conviction would reduce to a misdemeanor. It was a good deal if he completed all of the terms. Marc believed there was maybe a ten percent chance that he would.
“He’s with a client, Tony,” Marc heard Sandy say into the telephone. Marc and Connie Mickelson were showing a client out and he heard Sandy say his name. The woman was a very well off divorce client of Connie whose nineteen-year-old son had a criminal problem. Marc had agreed to take his case and the woman had written a nice check as the retainer. Knowing Carvelli was calling, Marc used it as an excuse to get away from the woman.
“What’s up?” he said when he got back to his desk.
“Owen Jefferson asked me to call you again and ask you a question.”
“Okay,” Marc curiously answered.
“You know who Julian Segal is?”
“Sure. Everyone in the Cities knows him. Why?”
“Have you seen any news today?”
“No, I haven’t. God, don’t tell me…”
“Yeah, they found him this morning alongside Lake Harriet. Same deal. Keep that to yourself for now. They haven’t released his name. Did he have anything to do with Howie Traynor’s trial way back when?”
“Let me think,” Marc said. After ten to fifteen seconds he said, “No. Not that I can think of. Unless he was somehow involved in the appeal, which I doubt. That was handled by the state P.D. office.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay, Marc. I’ll tell him.”
TWENTY-FIVE
“Thanks, Tony,” Jefferson said into his personal phone, “I owe you one.” He ended the call and looked across the conference room table at his partner. They were still in their squad room looking for a connection of Segal to their case. Marcie was on the phone with her admirer, Jeff Miller, giving him more instructions for his computer search.
When she hung up the phone, Jefferson said, “That was Carvelli. He spoke to Traynor’s lawyer. As far as the lawyer knew, Segal had no connection to Howie Traynor. I’ve been thinking,” Jefferson continued. “Maybe Kane is partially correct.”
“I’m not following,” Marcie said.
“Remember, she said maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe it’s none of these guys.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“But we’re pretty certain that’s too much of a coincidence. Maybe it is one of the guys on our list but he has an accomplice.”
The phone on the table rang and Marcie answered it. She said hello then listened for a moment.
“Are you sure? You did. Okay and thanks, Jeff,” she said. Marcie hung up the phone and without a word, stood up and went to the whiteboard. She picked up a marker, drew a red circle around a name and next to it wrote the name “Segal”.
“What?” Jefferson asked.
“His lawyer,” Marcie replied. “Jeff Miller caught it right away and double checked it to be sure.”
Jefferson got up from the table, slipped into his sport coat, looked at his watch and said, “It’s almost suppertime. Maybe he’ll be home.”
“Should we call first?” Marcie asked as she grabbed her things to join him.
“No, let’s try to surprise him. I think it’s time you and I had a chat with Mr. Aaron Forsberg.”
Having parked the department issued sedan in front of the house, the two of them walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Jefferson rang the bell and a moment later they heard someone moving inside the house. An older man with a friendly face and smile opened the door. The two detectives showed the man their badges and ID’s and Jefferson asked if Aaron was home.
“No, I’m sorry, he’s out,” the affable elderly man said speaking through the screen door.
“Are you his uncle, John Forsberg?” Jefferson asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you know when he might be back?” Marcie asked.
“No, I don’t. He comes and goes. He doesn’t keep regular hours.”
“I noticed you didn’t ask us what this is about or why we’re here,” Marcie said.
Uncle John hesitated for a moment, sighed then said, “Why don’t you come in and we’ll talk?”
The three of them took chairs in the living room and John Forsberg said, “You’re here about these killings that are in the papers. I recognize you,” he continued looking at Jefferson. “From TV.”
“You seem like you have something you want to tell us,” Marcie quietly said.
The older man said, “I believe Aaron was innocent of killing his wife. I’m about the only one that stuck with him. But prison changed him. He was never a real touchy-feely kind of guy. Prison hardened him and made him real angry and bitter.”
“Prison does that to a lot of people,” Jefferson interjected.
“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” Forsberg
agreed. “On the nights of these killings, starting with that judge up North, I’ve been keeping track and he’s been out every night. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. If I ask him he gets annoyed and acts like it’s none of my business. I’m worried about him.” Forsberg was seated in a chair that matched the sofa the detectives sat on. While he told them about his nephew being out on the nights of the killings, he was kneading his hands with his head down looking at the floor. He didn’t notice the quick glance Marcie and Jefferson exchanged.
Forsberg looked up and quickly added, “But he’s been out a lot of nights when nothing happened, either. So…”
“You’re right,” Jefferson said. “Just because he’s out some times when there’s been a killing, doesn’t mean he did them.” Jefferson pulled two cards from his cardholder and handed them to Forsberg. “Here are a couple of my cards. Give one to Aaron and tell him we need to talk to him. You keep one and if you think of anything else, give me a call.”
Marcie handed him two of her cards as well and all three of them stood. As they were leaving, Jefferson said, “Nice neighborhood. I noticed there’s a house for sale across the street. I’m thinking of moving. Are the owner’s home?”
“No, they’ve already moved. His job took them to Texas. You could call the realtor. It might be nice to have a cop in the neighborhood.”
“I’ll do that,” Jefferson replied.
They shook hands and Forsberg showed them out. On the walk back to their car Jefferson told Marcie to write down the name and phone number of the realtor on the sign.
“I thought the place was empty,” Jefferson said. “No curtains in the windows. Good place for a surveillance team.”
“I didn’t notice that,” Marcie said, a bit embarrassed, as they reached the car.
“Don’t worry,” Jefferson said. “You will. It comes with experience.”
Jefferson arrived at the office the next day shortly after 7:00 A.M. He went straight to the coffee pot then headed toward the conference room they were using as an office. He was surprised to see the lights in the room were already on. When he opened the door, Marcie and Jeff Miller were there to greet him.
“Be careful,” he growled at them. “I hate people who are already cheerful at this time of the day. It’s not natural.”
“Okay,” Marcie said. “I’ll be sure to be a crab ass for the next hour. Anyway, Jeff has some news.”
“Marcie called me before I left last night and we talked about expanding our search. I stayed late and did a ‘known associates’ check on the guys on our list who have a connection to the last three victims. I came up with another seven names. Guys who might fit the burglary profile and are not dead. None have a connection with Aaron Forsberg…”
“That would figure,” Jefferson said. “He did his time out of state and had no criminal past.”
“Right,” Miller agreed. “But three of these guys have prison connections with both Eugene Parlow and Howie Traynor.”
Miller handed several sheets of paper across the table to Jefferson. “Here’s a list of the names with bios, criminal histories and their connection to our guys,” Miller said.
“Have you been through this?” Jefferson asked Marcie.
“Yeah. I think we need some help. We can probably eliminate some of these guys but we’ll need more people to check them out.”
“Agreed,” Jefferson said while scanning through the pages. “Good work, Jeff. If you can think of anything else, go ahead and check it.”
An hour later, Jefferson began a meeting with four more detectives plus Selena Kane. There were two teams of detectives, one with two men and one comprising a man and a woman.
Jefferson had divided the list of seven new names giving three to one team and four to the other. He explained the situation to them and what was expected of them.
“You’ve been pulled from your current cases to work exclusively on this,” Selena Kane told them. “This is maximum priority.”
“We want to know everything we can about them. Especially prison records, who they did time with and what they’ve been up to since they get out,” Jefferson added.
“Shove a microscope up their asses and get anything and everything you can,” Kane said.
“You think one of these guys is involved with the Crown of Thornes killer?” a male detective named Mark Cullen asked.
“Crown of what?” Jefferson asked. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s in this morning’s paper,” Kane said. “Apparently they needed some cutesy name to sell papers.”
There was a sharp knock on the door and a man walked in, nodded at Kane and Jefferson and took a seat.
“All of you know Lieutenant Schiller from surveillance,” Jefferson said. Everyone silently nodded in assent.
“We’ve got one of these guys, Howie Traynor, under surveillance now,” Jefferson continued pointing at the whiteboard. “We’ll put two more, Parlow and Forsberg, under as well. We think those are our most likely suspects.”
“Why?” the female detective asked.
“They have direct ties to the victims, at least most of them and these killings started shortly after they got out of prison,” Jefferson said.
“And they all have reason to be pissed at these people for their convictions,” Kane added. “That’s it for now. You have assignments. You know what to do. We’ll meet again at nine o’clock tomorrow morning and I want some results.”
After the four detectives left, the meeting continued with Lt. Schiller saying, “I’ll need more people for this if we want them all covered twenty-four seven.”
“The chief and mayor say we get whatever we want,” Kane said. “If you need more guys, we can pull all you need from patrol into civilian clothes.”
For the next hour, the four of them went over the list of potential cops to use. They also set up a surveillance plan for Kane to take to the chief and mayor. Satisfied they were doing all they could for now, Kane ended the meeting to go upstairs to what she called a come to Jesus meeting.
TWENTY-SIX
Three murders in three consecutive days had ignited a firestorm in the media. The national media, through local affiliates and wire services, also picked it up. The cable news networks, with twenty-four hours per day of air time to fill were having a glorious time with it. Never shy about fanning the flames for ratings and to sell more papers the reporting was barely a notch below hysterical. To make things even worse, the connection that all of the victims except one were judges or lawyers was leaked from the MPD. Within hours of this fact being reported, almost every judge, prosecutor and criminal defense lawyer in the Cities were calling the police insisting on round the clock protection.
The recipient of the leak, Gabriella Shriqui, was on her way to a meeting with Channel 8 management. She received a call from the station’s news director, Hunter Oswald, inviting her to the meeting. Hunter had not elaborated on what it was about and Gabriella’s curiosity was definitely piqued. A meeting with upper management was not a daily occurrence.
Gabriella knocked lightly on the office door of the station’s general manager, Madison Eyler. She hesitated for one second then turned the door handle and went in at the same time she heard Eyler’s response.
“Hi, Gabriella,” Eyler greeted her. “Come in and have a seat.”
“What’s up?” Gabriella asked looking back and forth between Oswood and Eyler.
“We want you to take charge and coordinate the coverage of this Crown of Thornes killer story,” Oswood said.
“Right now we have people running around like chickens all trying to get in on it,” Eyler added. “We need one person in charge and to be the main on air personality.”
“You seem to have a knack for getting information,” Oswood said. “For getting men…”
“And women,” Eyler interjected.
“…to talk to you,” Oswood finished.
“I have a good teacher,” Gabriella said referring to her new friend
, Madeline Rivers. “She could get the Sphinx to speak. Okay, I’d be happy to do it. But you’ll put the word out to all of the staff that everyone backs off and I decide who does what.”
“Absolutely. That’s exactly what we have in mind,” Eyler said.
“And you’re likely looking at network air time also,” added Oswood. “You will report only to me. You and I will have final say about what goes on the air. Okay?”
“Great,” a delighted Gabriella said.
Her bosses gave each other an odd look and Gabriella sensed there was something more.
“What?” she asked.
“We want to tell you something that I know is a little sensitive,” Eyler said. “We’re bringing back Melinda Pace.”
“I thought she was fired,” Gabriella quickly said.
“She was,” Oswood replied. “But…”
“Never say never,” Eyler interjected. “We’ve heard she is negotiating with a couple of competitors…”
“So let her turn them into a tabloid news sleaze factory,” an obviously angry Gabriella said.
“Gabriella,” Eyler firmly said, “we’re not here to ask your permission. You’re a terrific asset to this station and the job we’re giving you to handle, this serial killer, was given to you because of merit, not to placate you. The truth is, with Melinda gone, ratings are down and so are revenues.”
“She claims to have cleaned up her act,” Oswood said. “She’s quit drinking and is contrite about what happened. She’s got a couple of job offers but is practically begging to come back to us.”
“Gabriella,” Eyler continued much more softly, “no decision has been made. We just wanted to have you hear this from us first. We know your history with her from the Riley case and respect your feelings. Frankly, I share them. But myself and Hunter also share some responsibility for her behavior. We should’ve done more to reign her in.”
“No argument there,” Gabriella said. “Whatever you decide, I’ll live with it. Personally, I hope that sick bitch rots in hell.”
Certain Justice Page 16
