Kate stepped out from the elevator at ten and walked to the front of the office where Deline sat at her desk. Kate was dragging and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. She and Carter had stayed up late after having the Charger towed and taking a cab home. "Is there anything new I need to deal with this morning?"
"There may be. Ms. Laurel Atkins left a number for you to call. She is a reporter at Channel 2 News. She learned of our involvement in the Three Monkeys Murders and wants you to do a short segment on her TV show. Sounds exciting, and it could be great publicity for the agency."
"I can think it over before I return her call. Anything else?"
"I vetted her through information on the internet. She's twenty-nine, has been a reporter for the Fox 2 TV station in St Louis for four years. Her rep is for being notoriously hard-driving and tenacious but honest and trustworthy. At six feet tall and two hundred ten pounds, she's a bit imposing and is said to intimidate most people easily. Luckily for us, you are not hobbled as easily as most people."
That afternoon Kate made an arrangement with Laurel that she was proud of. In return for a ten-minute spot of airtime, Kate would have access to all of Laurel's notes and final reports concerning the Three Monkeys Murders.
Kate hadn't expected the interview to be scheduled so quickly. The day after she and Laurel first discussed it, they sat across from each other after lunch in comfortable overstuffed chairs under bright, hot lights in a small studio.
Earlier, while their makeup was being applied, they discussed the questions Laurel planned to ask. Murmuring betrayed the presence of an invisible audience hidden in the dark behind the bright lights. Kate had spoken in front of large groups, but those were visible in plain sight where she could judge their reaction. It was a bit unnerving as she wondered how many faces were hidden right in front of her. She thought it would be ironic if the murderer were sitting in the audience watching and listening to her views of the crazed killer. The murmuring died away as a man's voice counted down from five.
The producer counted down to the on-air signal before Laurel said, "Welcome to the Atkins Report. I'm Laurel Atkins. This afternoon we have local Private Investigator Kate Menke with us. She and her partner, Carter Johnson, are the J&M Investigations firm. They recently chose to open their office in St. Louis and we welcome them. Kate is with us today to discuss the cold case they are currently investigating, that of the locally famous Three Monkeys Murders." Her voice was deep for a woman and resonated well.
Laurel turned from the camera to Kate. "Everyone in the area followed the news of those bizarre killings. Have you found new evidence pertaining to those deaths?"
"Unfortunately, not at this time. Our investigation has just begun, and it is too soon to expect meaningful results. But we believe if we dig deep enough and hard enough some new clues will lead to evidence to arrest and convict the killers."
"What steps are being taken to solve the murders?"
"My partner and I have recently started to interview people close to the victims: their friends, coworkers, neighbors and relatives. This is a slow process and will take considerable time since many are out of state. Hopefully, someone has information that will provide a path to clues that lead to the apprehension of the sadistic killers."
"Do you believe those were random victims, or is there a relationship between them?"
"Since all three victims were murdered at nearly the same time and displayed together, we believe there was some common issue or issues between them. Normally a serial killer identifies and attacks one victim at a time. Gathering three victims of diverse backgrounds and locations and holding them to be murdered together is not the normal profile we expect in random killings."
"Kate, are you shocked by the brutality of the murderer?"
"Yes, extremely so. The victims were horribly mutilated while constrained and conscious. It took a deranged mind to inflict that level of pain and suffering. We believe we are dealing with a despotic, psychopathic serial killer who enjoys the perverted actions inflicted on the victims."
A glass crashed against the wall and red wine splashed on the painted surface and the gloomy floral carpet beneath it. The killer's usually placid temperament flared uncontrollably as he rose, cursed and strode in circles. That bitch! How dare she call me a despotic psychopath? She can't label me a mental case; I'm not some nut to be confined to a mental facility. There are valid reasons for the methods I've chosen. Someone has to awaken the people of this country to what's happening to their freedoms. Extreme violence gets people's attention; sit ins and peaceful demonstrations are a waste of time and effort that only the loony do-gooders and cowards employ. We've got to get back to the common-sense ideals laid out in our constitution. Damn her. I'll deal with her big mouth in whatever way it takes to silence her and her big lout of a partner if and when necessary. For now, she's an irritation, not a cause for serious worry. I can't spend precious time focusing on her.
He sat, breathed deeply and willed himself to relax in spite of his badly bruised ego.
Laurel said, "Kate, we're almost out of time. Are there other criminal cases your firm is currently following?"
"Several lesser cases are currently being worked, but they pale in comparison to the challenge we just discussed."
Laurel addressed the audience. "Please give a round of applause to Kate Menke and her partner, Carter A. Johnson, for attempting to make our city safer. As many of you are aware, the murder rate in St. Louis has risen dramatically this year and the city leaders seem to be at a loss as to how to stop it. The mayor is convening a group of city leaders to study the issue and make recommendations to bring peace to the city."
Kate suppressed a grin. In her opinion, politically correct liberal policies simply ignored the root cause of the violence and treated the symptoms instead of the disease itself. Politicians would not impose the harsh methods needed because the majority of them were political whores chasing votes. They would make a lot of noise to impress the voters with some useless actions and then move on to business as usual.
Near closing time, Kate walked into Carter's office in a happy mood. He stood, looked at her with admiration and applauded. "Your interview was great. Deline and I watched it here in the office. This calls for a celebration." He picked up the phone and spoke to Deline. "Will you please bring two wine glasses and a bottle of Kate's favorite vino to my office? We have a TV celebrity in the house. Thanks." He took her in his arms protectively and assured her he loved her and was proud of her.
As he poured bourbon over the ice in his glass, he waited for Kate to fill him in. Deline entered the room as Kate began, "I have already seen results from the show. Someone called my cellphone after I left the station and was highly agitated. I can only assume it was the killer."
Carter and Deline stared in rapt attention.
"He denied being a psychopathic nut job and threatened both of us unless we drop the investigation." She reached for her vibrating phone, looked, and then extended it to Carter. "It must be him again." She turned to Deline as Carter listened intently to the new message. "The voice is distorted by an electronic voice altering device so it sounds like Darth Vader. It leaves no way to get a feel for the type of person we are dealing with. I could not tell anything about the age, or even the gender of the caller."
Carter saved the call and noted Kate had saved the assumed killer's previous call. He took the corkscrew Deline proffered. "Another threatening complaint. We need to get these messages to Captain Davis and see if she'll have her communications people try to get something from them. If she can't or won't, they're useless to us." He squinted as he finished a thought. "Since you were on a local interview broadcast to only a limited audience, the killer must live in the St. Louis region. He's on his home turf here. That's the best lead we've gotten so far. I'd wager he didn't realize he could be nailing down his location when he made those calls."
A half-hour later, Deline left for the day and Kate and Carter went upstairs. Carte
r called Capt. Davis and arranged to take the phone to her the following morning. After supper, Kate received a third threatening rant that she saved to be examined.
Chapter Five
Kate flew to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, the following afternoon to interview the wife, other family members and friends of Senator Lloyd Barnstein. Carter boarded a plane two hours later at Lambert St. Louis International Airport for Newark, New Jersey, to speak to relatives, colleagues and friends of Wardell Bowers. Each expected to be gone three days.
The rental car stopped and parked on the asphalt driveway at the home of recently widowed Roma Barnstein. An early morning haze had burned off as the sun ascended higher above the horizon while Kate drove. She surmised the estate consisted of at least twenty acres. A small horse barn and corrals stood at the rear of the well-tended property. Behind the farthest fence line, a small river meandered where the ground sloped down to it from her vantage point. Neighbor's houses were several hundred yards away on either side. Kate stood on a wood, wraparound porch and rang the doorbell of the grand, two-story, rustic home. Her dark blue business suit with a yellow blouse felt good in the cool morning air.
When the door opened, she passed her business card to the uniformed maid. Then the door closed and she waited. At ten in the morning the temperature was only seventy-five degrees, but the humidity was expected to be high the following three days. As she waited, she thought of Carter and hoped his inquiries went well. They badly needed a break in the murder case. Her confidence in his abilities derived from his performance in past investigations with the vigilante group.
The door opened; a short, attractive, middle-aged bleached blonde invited her inside. Mrs. Barnstein wore western garb: a short sleeved, red and blue plaid shirt, bootleg jeans and cowboy boots. All appeared to be top-end designer brands. They entered a sitting room decorated with a western cowboy motif.
Up close Roma Barnstein appeared to be in her early fifties. She had good facial features under a heavy layer of makeup. She kicked the boots off and flopped on a leather couch with her feet tucked up under her butt.
Kate said, "I realize your husband's death might still be difficult to discuss—"
Roma chuckled raucously. "Excuse me, Ms. Menke, but I'll be honest. I was the trophy wife for public consumption. The old bastard cheated on me since the day we were married. I only stayed with him all these years for the sake of our two sons, the money, and the prestige of being the wife of a senator. Other than that, I have no sympathy for him or the way he died. He was a conniving bastard who only lived for the power he wielded. I was nothing to him but a semen depository for use when he was home and horny."
"I am surprised by your outspokenness; the picture you paint of Mr. Barnstein would make the editor of any sleazy paper salivate."
Roma placed her feet on the floor and leaned forward. "I'm not worried about you or anyone else trying to sell my opinion of my dear departed husband to the media. I'd deny saying it and sue your ass off for slander. And I'd win. Now why did you come all the way out here from—where, St. Louis wasn't it? Your secretary said you're looking for clues as to who murdered Lloyd. I honestly don't know who might have done it and don't really care. He made lots of enemies over the years with his wheeling and dealing, but I can't believe any of the people I know of would resort to the viciousness dealt to my husband. In fact, if the people I'd put on a suspect's list were responsible, they would have had the death staged as an accident to avoid any hint of murder." She stood.
"May I call you Kate? Janice made fresh coffee; would you like a cup?"
"Yes and yes. Black please."
Roma left the room quietly in her stocking feet. Kate studied the amenities surrounding her. The overall effect was pleasant but far too down-home cozy for her sophisticated city taste.
Kate reviewed Mrs. Barnstein's comments about her deceased husband and shook her head in amazement. Not all relationships were created in heaven she knew, and this one was closer to hell’s creation. She'd been extremely lucky to first have Gerhart and then Carter. Though she and Carter chose not to go through the formality of a marriage ceremony, their relationship was more stable and romantic than many of their friends and acquaintances. How could a legal certificate and a ring improve that? At some point in their future they would likely marry, but there was no rush. She knew her mother would like her to conform to society’s mandates, but she had become independently rebellious after her murder conviction and prison incarceration and didn't give a flying fuck what the politically correct matrons thought of her and Carter's living arrangement.
The maid, Janice, placed a tray with coffee and scrumptious looking Danishes on the coffee table. She poured two cups of coffee and left the room. Roma returned minutes later. "Do you have a list of people in and around Sioux Falls you want to interview?"
"A few, but most of the Senator's close friends appear to be in the Washington, D.C., area along with his past congressional colleagues." Kate decided to try a different tact. "Would you know what legislation, if any, your husband was working to pass behind the scenes at the time of his death?"
"I'm not aware of anything important. But then my husband wasn't home much and seldom confided in me when he was." She grew pensive for several seconds. "You should talk to Toby Isringhousen. Toby retired from the House of Representatives a few years ago, and he and Lloyd were very close. If anyone would know what Lloyd was up to, it would be him. He lives further out in the boonies than this, so I’ll give you directions before you go." Roma sipped from her cup. “If you’ll wait, I’ll call Toby and pave the way for you to visit.”
"Thank you," Kate said. "What about the Senator's brothers, Edward and Myron?"
Roma threw her head back and snorted loudly. "You'd be wasting your time with those two. Lloyd hadn't spoken to them in at least fifteen years and they despised him. As he was wont to do, Lloyd screwed them in a land deal years ago, and they haven't forgotten or forgiven him for it. Neither attended Lloyd's funeral even for appearances’ sake."
"Do you recall the Senator mentioning Evelyn Estes or Wardell Bowers?"
"Those were the other people murdered with Lloyd, weren't they? No, I'm positive he never mentioned either of them."
The ladies spoke for another twenty minutes before Roma phoned Toby and left a message. Kate felt she'd learned nothing useful and left. When she drove back to town and located Barnstein's brothers, it would be lunch time.
Carter stepped through the reflective stainless steel elevator doors on the fourth floor. Hallways extended to his left and right. He stood in front of the glass wall of the Nowhere to Hide non-profit organization and was impressed by its first-class presentation. Inside the reception area, he was met by Nelson Gibbons. After cordial introductions, he was escorted past a pleasant-looking, middle-aged, dark-skinned receptionist to a large meeting room where the other members of the Board of Directors waited. African and local African American artwork dominated the wall space and stood on pedestals around the circumference of the white room. Two men and two women, all African Americans, sat staring at him sternly as Nelson took his place between them.
The silence was stifling as Carter sat, focused on each member and said, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. As I explained to Mr. Gibbons, I've been hired to investigate the murder of Mr. Bowers and the two-people found with him. The information I'm searching for is a connection between Mr. Bowers, Senator Lloyd Barnstein and Ms. Evelyn Estes. There has to be some tangible tie between the three of them. Do any of you know what that connection might be?" No one blinked or made a sound.
From the blank, hateful stares he received, Carter knew it was going to be a long, tedious afternoon.
After a late lunch three days later, Kate, Deline and Carter gathered in the small conference room at their office. Carter leaned back in one of the hunter green leather chairs surrounding the dark wood table. "If you don't mind, I'll volunteer to debrief first because I have an appointment scheduled shortly.”
Kate nodded and leaned back to relax and listen.
"The board of directors of Nowhere to Hide was my first interview. It was fruitless. They were antagonistic, and I got nowhere with them. Several said they want the murderer caught, but no one had any useful information about Wardell Bowers' death or why he was dealt with so harshly. They couldn't think of anything that occurred in recent years that could possibly lead to such retaliation or punishment. After Bowers’ death, the organization hired a well-known investigative firm on the east coast. They have not produced any positive results up to this time. Several members tried repeatedly to paint the murder as racially motivated, but I squashed that thought because two of the three victims were white.
"After that, I located Wardell's two sisters and three brothers, plus two men who reported directly to him in the organization, and three close friends. A sister and a brother and one of his friends disapproved of his methods to advance his agenda, but the others claimed to support him fully. None claimed to have prior knowledge of Estes or Barnstein. Overall, as far as results, it was a wasted trip." He passed a CD disk to Deline. "My notes on the disk have much more detail."
The Three Monkeys, a Carter A. Johnson & Kate Menke Thriller Page 7
