by J. C. Fields
“It’s Sean, ma’am. Yes, I run. What can you tell me about your neighbor, Paul Bishop?”
“Nice man. Friendly and always waved, a rarity in this neighborhood. After my husband passed, Paul always shoveled my driveway and sidewalk when it snowed. Never asked. He just did it. Wouldn’t take a penny for his labors. He’d tell me he was already shoveling and got carried away. Then he’d laugh and continue shoveling.”
Kruger nodded. “Do you know if he had any family?”
She frowned. “There was a woman living there when my husband and I moved into the neighborhood, but she disappeared several years later.”
“Did he ever mention someone named Randy to you?”
She shook her head “Not that I recall.”
Kruger nodded and smiled. “Okay. What can you tell me about the woman?”
She was silent, tapping her right index finger on her lips.
“When we moved into the neighborhood, oh, I guess it was nineteen years ago, we would see her on rare occasions. She wasn’t very friendly—kind of snooty, actually. She never waved or spoke. One day she disappeared, and we never saw her again. I thought it odd and was going to ask Paul about her. But my husband told me to mind my own business.”
“Do you know if they were married?”
“Oh yes. Paul introduced her as his wife when we first met them.”
Kruger looked up at the two detectives. Winslow nodded and left the house. Kruger returned his attention to Norma Sellers. “Did you ever see him with another woman?”
She shook her head. “No. Can’t say I did. Bob, that’s my late husband, always said he thought Paul was queer. You know, uh, didn’t like women.”
Kruger nodded. Cordero jotted something down in a small notebook, and Kruger asked, “Did he ever mention a brother or sister?”
“No. Now that you mention it, he never talked about himself. He would ask about our health and was concerned when Bob got the cancer.” She paused. “I will never forget, he stayed at our house during the funeral—kept the burglars away, you know. They wait for people to die and then steal from them during the funeral.”
“I’ve heard that.” Kruger paused for just a few seconds. “What else can you tell me about Paul Bishop?”
After a long silence, she shook her head. “Don’t you believe a word they’re saying about him. He was a gentleman, respectful and considerate. Not many men left like that anymore.”
Kruger talked to Norma Sellers for another twenty minutes but failed to learn anything else of importance. He thanked her and left the house with Cordero. Once they were off the front porch, Kruger said, “Let’s see if Winslow’s found anything about the mysterious Mrs. Bishop.”
They found Winslow sitting in the passenger seat of a dark green unmarked Chevy Impala police car. The door was open, and Winslow was hunched over, holding his cell phone to his ear with his shoulder as he rapidly made notes on a yellow five-by-eight notepad. When they approached, he held one finger up. Finally, he spoke into the phone, “No, that’s what I needed. Thanks, Sharon. I owe you.”
He smiled as he looked up at Kruger and Cordero. “We didn’t think to look at divorce records. Bishop wasn’t married here. They were married out of state. The divorce papers were filed here.”
Kruger titled his head slightly. “And?”
“Timeline doesn’t jive with the story Miss Sellers told.”
“How so?” Cordero asked.
“She indicated the woman disappeared a few years after they moved in. The divorce wasn’t finalized until six years ago. That’s a ten or more year gap.”
“Maybe she was confused,” said Cordero. “Got her times wrong.”
Kruger shook his head. “No. Her husband died six years ago. She mentioned a long period without Bishop being seen with a woman. Her husband thought Bishop was gay.”
Cordero nodded. “Yeah,” he paused. “There is that.”
“What was her name?” Kruger asked.
Referring to his notes, Winslow flipped back a few pages. “Court papers state her name was Brenda Parker Bishop. Petition states reason for divorce was abandonment. It was filed by Paul Bishop, and her maiden name of Parker was restored. He got the house, and she got cash.”
Kruger frowned. “I don’t suppose there is any mention of her current address.”
Winslow shook his head.
“I didn’t think there would be. Dammit. How many Brenda Parkers can there be? Six or seven million?” Kruger slapped the roof of the police car.
All three men were quiet. Kruger rubbed the back of his neck. “Where were they married? Does the petition say anything about that?”
Winslow referred to his notes and nodded. “Illinois.”
“She might have gone back to Illinois. Or, she could still be here in St. Louis. I’ll have one of the techs start searching for her there. Why don’t you two see if you can locate her here?”
Cordero nodded and headed toward the driver’s side.
Just before they drove off, Kruger bent down to look into the car. “Have we been able to determine where this guy worked?”
Winslow shook his head. “Not yet. None of the neighbors at home knew him. Apparently he kept to himself. He’d wave, but they never spoke to him. The neighbors on both sides of the house aren’t home from work yet. Maybe we’ll get lucky with them.”
Kruger nodded and looked back at the house. Yellow crime-scene tape was stretched around the yard. A white forensic van was parked in the driveway, along with several black-and-white police cars. The crowd on both sides of the house was growing. Curious onlookers were scattered in various yards on both sides of the street.
Cordero leaned over from the driver seat and remarked, “How many of your neighbors do you two know?”
Winslow looked over at him. “Not many.”
Kruger smiled slightly. “I know one.”
Chapter 2
Wildwood, MO
An hour after the two local detectives left, Charlie Craft waved at Kruger. Kruger walked over to the kitchen table where Charlie worked. “Did you find something?”
Charlie nodded and pointed at the laptop. “I believe that’s her.”
Kruger looked at the screen; it showed a profile of Brenda Parker of Rockford, Illinois. Charlie pointed at the screen. “I hacked into her Facebook page. A week ago, Paul Bishop sent a friend request; so far, she’s ignored it.”
Kruger put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Nicely done. Have you ever been to Rockford, Illinois?”
Charlie shook his head.
“Me neither.”
***
Brenda Parker lived in a quiet neighborhood in the southeast section of Rockford. The homes were small and older, with the occasional car parked on the street. Her ranch-style home sat at the end of a cul-de-sac and featured a triangular-shaped yard. A ten-year-old Oldsmobile Cutlass was parked in front of the detached garage, and Kruger parked the rental car behind it. He turned to Charlie. “Let’s go meet the ex-Mrs. Paul Bishop.”
As they approached the front door, it opened, and a woman in her mid-forties stepped out. “Are you the FBI agent that called earlier?”
“Yes, ma’am. Special Agent Sean Kruger, and this is Forensic Specialist Charlie Craft.”
He opened his ID wallet, showed his badge and identification card. “May we come in?”
She nodded, and Charlie entered the house first. Her height barely reached his shoulders. She had medium-length brown hair with gray peeking out at the roots. The square glasses seemed an odd addition to her round face. They walked into the house while she held the door open. He noticed her eyes were red; Kruger guessed from crying.
Kruger’s first impression of Brenda Parker’s home was the stark contrast of her organized clutter to the minimalist furnishings of Paul Bishop’s house. As he stood in the entryway, he noticed several cats scurrying for cover.
“I hate to be rude, but why do you want to talk to me about Paul? We were married for a very short t
ime, a very long time ago.”
Kruger stood in the living room and turned to look at the woman, who remained by the front door. Her hand still on the knob, as if anticipating she would be escorting them right back out.
“When was the last time you spoke to Paul?”
“As I told you on the phone, it’s been at least six years. Not since he finally filed for divorce.”
Kruger smiled. “Yes, I’m aware of what you told me.” He looked around and continued, “Why don’t we sit down? We have a lot of questions.”
She took a deep breath, sighed, and walked over to a wooden rocking chair. After taking a stack of magazines off of the seat, she sat down and pointed at the sofa for Kruger and Charlie. Finally she spoke, “I’m not sure I can help you.” She paused and sighed. “But since you’re here, go ahead.”
“Are you aware of what’s happened to Paul?” Kruger paused, searching for anything noteworthy in her response.
“My sister called. She still lives in Wildwood. But I can tell you right now, he didn’t kill those women. I assume that was the reason for your visit.”
Kruger was silent. He looked at the woman for several moments. “Well, it was going to be one of my questions. What makes you so sure, Ms. Parker?”
“Paul Bishop was a gentle and kind man. He never physically hurt me during our time together. That was a little over eight years. We started dating our freshman year in college and married a year after graduation.”
Even though his predetermined role in the interview was to take notes, Charlie looked up. “What changed, Miss Parker?”
She turned her head and focused on something outside the picture window next to her rocking chair. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I changed.”
Kruger asked gently, “How so?”
She was quiet for a moment, continuing to gaze out the window. “A lot of things. Paul was a very shy man—brilliant, but shy. After we married, he struggled to find new clients.” She sighed. “He only worked for one company, his brother’s. He said it made him feel closer to Randy. But that wasn’t the real reason.”
Kruger raised an eyebrow, looked at Charlie, and then returned his attention to Brenda. “Randy? Who’s Randy?”
She looked at Kruger with wide eyes. “You don’t know?”
“No, we don’t.” Kruger shook his head. “A note we found was addressed to Randy, but it didn’t specify who Randy was. All we found were a few tax records showing Paul as a self-employed independent computer consultant.”
She stood suddenly. “That son of a bitch. Damn him. I tried to tell Paul, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Kruger leaned forward on the sofa. “What did you try to tell Paul?”
“About his brother. He’s the one you should be talking to. The man’s crazy.” She closed her eyes. “And sick.”
Kruger and Charlie glanced at each other. Kruger returned his attention to Brenda. “Why don’t you sit down? This is all new information to us.”
Sobbing, she excused herself and disappeared into the small kitchen off of the living room. Several moments later, she returned with a small square box of Puffs. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She sat down in the rocking chair and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I’ve tried to forget Paul, but I couldn’t. Every day for the past sixteen years, I’ve thought about him. Wondering what our life would be like together.” She wiped her eyes again. “His brother was the real reason I left. The man scared me. He pushed Paul around and treated him like dirt. But Paul idolized his brother. Randy—”
Charlie looked up from his notes. “Randy Bishop?”
She shook her head. “No. That’s what Paul called him. He insisted on being called Randolph. This was after he graduated from high school and left for Yale. Paul went to the Missouri University of Science and Technology at Rolla. That’s where we met. I was a chemical engineering student, and he was in computer science. We met at a freshman mixer the first week.” She paused and stared at a stain on the carpet. “He never dated anyone else that I know of.”
She raised her head and stared out the picture window again. Kruger and Charlie remained silent. A minute later, she sighed. “Those were good times. I dated a few other guys but always went back to Paul. He treated me like I was the only girl he would ever love. I guess I was.”
Low and soft, Kruger said, “Brenda, tell us, what did Paul’s brother do that scared you enough to leave?”
Once again, she stared silently out the window, tears rolling down her face.
“After college I found a job in St. Louis with a pharmaceutical company and Paul started a computer consulting business. At first he did well, using contacts from school and leads his professors sent. But for some reason, after a while, the contracts dried up. Paul was too shy to pursue new ones. I know his brother had something to do with it, but I could never prove it. Anyway, Randolph’s company started using him as a computer consultant. He was never an employee. But it was the only company he did business with. His brother told him it needed to be that way. Because of company policies, they couldn’t hire relatives. Randy was a vice president of sales at that time and always told Paul he would make him an employee as soon as possible. Because he was an independent contractor, he received no benefits. Just another way Randy abused his brother.”
She stood and looked at both of them. “I need a glass of water. Can I get either of you anything?”
Kruger and Charlie shook their heads.
After being gone for several minutes, she returned with a glass of water and sat back down. “We were married a year after graduation. It was to be a small ceremony, his brother was to be the best man. Randolph never showed up. A day later, he called Paul and said he’d been too busy. Paul was heartbroken, but he didn’t complain. He just took the crap his brother dished out.” She paused. “Sorry. I still can’t believe he did that to his brother.”
She sipped more of the water and continued to stare out the front window. “My job was going well, and Paul developed a steady income from his business. Things were good. We bought the house in Wildwood and made plans to start a family. Then one day, Randy came by the house unannounced. I never knew the reason, he just showed up. Anyway, he walked into the house, looked around, and immediately started yelling at Paul. He was appalled by our messy house, screaming how ashamed he was to call Paul his brother. He stormed back out, never telling us why he was there. Paul was manic. He stripped the house of everything except what was essential—no pictures, no decorations, no clutter, nothing.”
She shook her head but stayed silent.
She waved her arm around the room. “As you can see, I don’t live that way. We fought constantly after Randy’s visit. I tired. I tried so hard.” She paused and brought her fist to her mouth. “I tried to make him see how his obsession with satisfying Randy was affecting our marriage. When I told him I was leaving, he still didn’t get it. Randy was manipulating him. Finally, six months after the incident I gave up. After packing a suitcase, I walked out the door with the few possessions I still owned and left. Deep down inside, I prayed leaving Paul would help him realize what Randy was doing. But it never did.”
She looked straight at Kruger. “I’ve never stopped loving him. I waited, but he wouldn’t go against his brother.”
She was silent for a few moments.
“It hurt because Paul seemed more interested in his relationship with his brother than with me,” she continued as her eyes narrowed. “A brother who never gave a damn about Paul.”
Kruger nodded. “Why did it take so long to get the divorce?”
She took a deep breath, sighed, and shook her head. “Paul wanted to give me everything. I told him I only wanted a little money to help buy a house. I think he always thought I would come back. But I didn’t. Six years ago, a company here in Rockford recruited me and I moved. He finally realized I wasn’t going to change my mind and filed for divorce.”
Kruger titled is head slightly. “When we first got here, you told us he didn
’t kill those women. How can you be so sure?”
“I was with the man for eight years,” she smiled grimly. “I just know.”
***
Kruger waited until they were heading back to the Rockford airport before speaking. “What do you think?”
Charlie looked at Kruger. “She believes Paul didn’t kill the women.”
“She’s the second person we’ve interviewed who’s told us the same thing. Paul Bishop couldn’t have done it.” He paused. “I got involved with the case after the third woman disappeared, and the chief of police suspected a serial killer might be responsible. So he contacted the Bureau. Since I live in Kansas City, I was the closest profiler. The first thing I noticed was the timing of the murders. It was odd. Every two or three years. Most serial killers have a fairly discernable time gap between killings; this guy didn’t. However, the women were similar; highly educated and professional. All but one was married and had families.”
Charlie glanced at Kruger. “I don’t remember hearing about them.”
“I’m not surprised. The killings took place over the course of a decade. With so much time involved, the news media lost interest. But the chief of police didn’t forget.” He paused, checking traffic before making a right turn. “I’ve profiled a lot of serial killers over the years. Normally, those profiles produce leads, and we catch the guy. If Paul Bishop is guilty, I missed the profile by a mile. He just doesn’t fit.”
Charlie was quiet as he stared out the car’s front window. “How was it determined they were killed by the same person?”
“All the women were killed in the same manner, and their bodies found in the same location.”
“That could just be a copycat killer?”
“Except the pattern of the bruises on their necks matched exactly. Same hand.”
Charlie whistled softly. “Do we need to go back to each victim and dig a little deeper?”
Kruger nodded. “I think we have to, we’re missing something. Why don’t you go back through the murder books? Put a fresh eye on them. My bet is we’ll find something they all have in common.”
