SHADOW MAN - Angie Bartoni Case File #6 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES Book 1)

by Marshall Huffman

  “Oh Bartoni. I try to educate you but does it ever work? Apparently not. Those probably hurt like hell but the one through the heart is the one that killed him.”

  Boy did I feel stupid. I didn’t even see that one. However in my defense, it was dark in here and it is the ME’s job to figure that stuff out. Still I did feel a little silly.

  “The ones down there,” I said indicating his private parts, “Those were for pain. No way were they meant to kill him.”

  “That would be my assessment as well. Totally to inflict as much pain and agony as possible.”

  “I’m starting to get a very bad feeling about all of this,” I told Sorenson.

  **

  “How bad was it?”

  “Honestly, I’ve seen worse. I think it shook the Doc up just because of where the most damage was inflicted.”

  “His...”

  “Yes Dan. It was there.”

  “So where does this leave us?”

  “I think we are going about this in the wrong way. We are looking at the six convicts and I think we should be looking at some of the victim’s relatives. Fathers, husbands, brothers, and that sort of thing. Stillwell could have had a falling out but I don’t think so at this point. This was personal and done to inflict pain. I hate to say it but it could very well be one of the relatives of the victims.”

  “That would totally suck. Look, these guys deserve everything that happens to them. I read the files and saw what they did to the victims. They are animals and animals deserve animal justice.”

  “Dan, that’s all well and good to say to me but don’t ever say that in front of anyone else if you want to keep your job. McGregor lets us go without a lot of oversight because he knows in the end we will do the job. He trusts us. We have to work this case just like any other

  “Still sucks.”

  **

  We finally called it a night. I wanted to just drag my poor body to bed but I just lay there and tossed and turned. What if it was one of the parents or siblings of a victim of Stillwell and his gang of thugs? They had done some despicable things to the women they abducted. Had the courts failed the families? Why were they even out? The dunderheads on the parole board? Did they think these animals could be rehabilitated? Were they that stupid? Why was I asking myself a question I already knew the answer to? The last time I glanced at the clock it was going on 2:30 a.m.

  I got up feeling better than I thought I would. I walked to the shower and got the water the perfect temperature, making sure to avoid the mirror at all costs. Ten minutes later I felt like a new person.

  I checked my legs to see if I needed a chain saw to cut the hair on them but decided the hell with it. One more day wasn’t going to make much difference one way or the other. Besides hairy legs are hard to see in slacks.

  I was downing a cup of yogurt with granola on top when my cell phone rang. I’m not much on cell phones. People have all these phones that do everything but wipe their...well, you get the picture. I have a dumb phone. It rings, I answer. I can make calls but refuse to do that while driving. Don’t even get me started on people that drive and text. I want to just pull them over and slap the living crap out of them

  “Bartoni.”

  “You giving any thought to eventually coming in to work today?” McGregor said.

  His attempt at humor I’m sure. The man is not funny.

  “Captain, we got home at 1:00 a.m. How about a little slack?”

  “Okay. Take all the time you need. Take...oh say, ten minutes.”

  “You are a prince among frogs captain,” I said hanging up without so much as a by your leave. He can be a blockhead at times.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “So what’s up?” I asked when I got to my desk.

  “Captain wants to see us ASAP,” Dan said.

  “Big deal. I guess we should go check in.

  I knocked on the captain’s door.

  “Come.”

  “You wanted to see us?”

  “Yeah. Sid Peters.”

  “Okay. What about him?”

  “Found him around 6:00 a.m. hanging around the 42nd Street train trestles. Someone used him for a piñata, according to Sorenson.”

  “Well crap. Seems I was right. Someone has decided to take it upon himself to give these guys some payback.”

  “I certainly looks that way at the moment at least. You should get over there. Sorenson will be getting grumpy.”

  “He is always grumpy.”

  “Sorry. I mean grumpier.”

  “Tell him we are on the way if you don’t mind.”

  “No problem Bartoni. Always happy to do your secretarial work.”

  “Oh come on. You know I don’t talk on my cell phone when I’m driving.”

  “Ah. I forgot, Dan can’t do that? Or drive for that matter?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll have Dan handle it.”

  “Gee, why didn’t I think of that? Out,” he said pointing to the door.

  The captain was right. Sorenson just about bit Dan’s head off when he called. Glad I elected to drive. When we pulled up to the crime scene it was the usual flashing lights and yellow and black tape strung out all over the place. They had rerouted traffic causing people going to work additional anguish. Someone had put up a hand written a sign that said; ‘You’re going to be late to work this morning...Ha,ha,ha’. That little bit of humor was going to piss off more than a few commuters.

  It was easy to find Sorenson. He was the one with steam coming out of his ears.

  “Well, well, well. You finally decided to show up,” he snapped.

  I like the ME and think he is top notch but sometimes I get a little tired of his crap, especially when he gets into that personal insult mode. That’s where I draw the line. He was standing on it right now. I’ve had no more sleep than he has had so jumping our case wasn’t going to fly.

  “So what do we have so far,” I said.

  “Well Bartoni, I see your sharp observations skills haven’t kicked in yet. That thing there,” he said pointing to the man hanging from the bridge “Is a body.”

  I looked at him for a second trying to decide if I was going to let him continue to be an ass or stop it right here.

  “Do you have a cause of death yet?”

  “Well gee. He is up there and I’m down here. What do you think?” he snapped at me.

  Oops. Over the line.

  “I’ll tell you what I think. I think one more smartassed word out of your mouth and there are going to be two bodies hanging from the trestle. Now put a sock in the smart mouth and tell me what is going on. You know darned well that we are just as sleep deprived as you are.”

  He glared at me for a second and then realized I just might mean what I was saying so he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I haven’t seen him up close yet but even from down here I can see that he has taken a hell of a beating, probably like Stillwell did. My best guess at this point, and don’t hold me to it, is that he was beaten and when it was over he was hung from the train trestle.”

  “So that makes Stillwell, Sharp, and now Bell. Boy, that sounds like vengeance. Someone has decided that it is time to extract some vigilante justice, no doubt triggered by their release from prison.”

  “Then you really have your work cut out for you Bartoni. They only proved one case against the Stillwell bunch but it is believed that they abducted at least two dozen women during their reign of terror.”

  “Actually we know of fifteen women for sure but the DA cut a deal to get them off the books. They pleaded guilty to the lesser charges in exchange for the names of the women they abducted.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember that. You threw a fit and almost got fired when you gave an interview about the DA and the Judge that accepted the deal. If I remember right, the DA lost the next election.”

  “That’s right and I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. If he had put some effort into prosecuting the case these creeps would still be loc
ked up or on death row where they belong.”

  “So, can we take the body down?” Sorenson asked.

  He had undergone a remarkable attitude change since I threatened to hang him next to Bell’s body.

  “Looks like the crime scene unit is done so let’s get him down and see what all was done to him.

  **

  “Holy smokes. That certainly opens a can of worms,” Captain McGregor said.

  “It does indeed. We could be looking at as many as twenty-four suspects.”

  “Not to mention husbands, siblings and friends,” Dan added.

  “So what is your plan?”

  “I remember from the courtroom that Kenny Miller was the most outspoken. They had to drag him out of court at one point. I think that is the most logical place to start.”

  “Threats and action are two different things. In the heat of the moment it is easy to get mad as hell and want to do bodily harm but not always so easy to do during the cold dawn of reality.”

  “Oooh, that sounds like something Shakespeare would say. Very posh.”

  “Me thinks thou be true in your observation,” McGregor said.

  What a ham, but he was right. Talking about it and the actual action is a whole lot different. Still, we had nothing else to go on.

  “We are going to the morgue first, then off to talk to Miller.”

  “Keep me informed,” was all he said.

  Actually that is pretty much all he ever says but then again he is a captain and doesn’t need to know all of the minor details.

  We drove over to the morgue. Dan was unusually quiet.

  “What’s up?” I probed.

  “What? Oh, nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that bull. Something is bothering you. What?”

  “Don’t you just get tired of all the killing? I mean we are killing each other at an alarming rate. It’s crazy.”

  “Tired of it? Hell yes. Would I like it to stop? You bet. But it won’t and I can only do what I can do. Take this case here. We have three dead slimeballs. Do I really want to catch the guy that is doing it? Not really. In some ways he is doing a service. Now I can’t say or think that openly, but in the back of my mind, I want to cheer this guy on until he gets all six of these bastards. The downside is that we have to find him and arrest him. He will probably go to jail for longer than they did. If Stillwell and his gang had done to my loved one what they did to those women I would damn sure hunt them down and probably do the same thing. Inflict the maximum pain before killing them,” I told him.

  “Geez Bartoni, you don’t really mean that do you?”

  “Why heavens no...says my mouth, while in the back of my head, I’m hearing ‘you bet your butt. That and a lot more’,” I replied.

  “You would become a vigilante?”

  “We're here,” I pointed out, changing the subject.

  Dan pulled into the lot, put the car in park and looked over at me.

  “You would really do that?”

  “Dan, there are some things about me that you just don’t need to know. That is one of them. Let’s go see what the ME has to say,” I replied.

  **

  I don’t know about all morgues but I can say for certain, ours is really depressing. The gray walls, stainless steel tables, and terra-cotta tile floor do not exude ‘happy’.

  “Bartoni. Just in time. Our friend Carl Bell has quite a story to tell,” he said, waving at us from across the room.

  “You okay with this?” I asked Dan who was starting to take on the same color as the walls.

  “Maybe I should wait outside.”

  “Good plan,” I said and went to join Sorenson.

  I walked over, took one look and stopped.

  “Holy smokes. Carl Bell took one hell of a beating.”

  “You might say that. A bat or steel pipe was used on every joint in his body. When I say every, I mean from his shoulders to his toes. Everything. Elbows, wrists, phalanges, hips, and on and on. In fact, I can’t find a single bone other than his skull that wasn’t smashed. He is primarily jelly at this point.”

  “And a bat could do that?”

  “It could. I took some measurements and it would appear that the bat was made of aluminum, not wood. Anyone hitting this many times and this hard would have eventually broken the bat. That would have left splinters of wood. I found none. That leads me to believe an aluminum bat was used.”

  “If we find the bat could you match it the victim’s wounds?”

  “I could, but not good enough for court testimony. All I would be able to say is that it was a bat of similar proportions. Could I say it was the weapon? Absolutely not.”

  “Well it’s a starting place. Oh, I know he was pretty much beaten to death but what was the final cause of death? Asphyxiation?”

  “Good guess but no. His common femoral artery was severed when his hip bone was crushed.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Uh Bartoni?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I mean...”

  “I know. We all get grumpy when we go that long without a chance to recharge. Everything is cool with me if it is with you,” I replied.

  “Good.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Thanks,” Dan said when I came out.

  “For?”

  “You know. I hate that place.”

  “No big deal. It doesn’t require us both being in there,” I told him.

  “Still, thanks.”

  “No biggie.”

  “We off to see Kenny Miller now?”

  “Yep.”

  “And if this doesn’t pan out?”

  “We keep looking at the most likely suspects. Whoever did this was very strong. Tossing Stillwell off a building took some doing. Hanging Bell from that bridge took a lot of strength as well. Miller was a big guy. He could have torn their heads off if he got hold of them,” I told Dan.

  “By big you mean?”

  “Six-five, two hundred and seventy-five pounds. Ham hocks for arms. That kind of big.”

  “Crap. That is big.”

  “He had a pretty violent temper the last time I saw him but you have to keep in mind it was still pretty raw then. Everyone was hoping they would get a hell of a lot more time than they did. The plea bargain was done behind closed doors and everyone was really ticked off, including me," I told him.

  “Do you want to call for backup?” Dan asked.

  “Heavens no. We are just going to ask him a few questions. If it gets out of hand, then we can call in backup.”

  **

  “Nice place,” Dan said when we pulled into the driveway.

  It was a well-cared for ranch house with nice landscaping. A white fence ran around the property and a van was parked in front of one of the garage doors.

  We walked up and I rang the doorbell. A few seconds later the door opened.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Miller?”

  Something was wrong. This guy was big but he seemed way too young.

  “Yes. What can I do for you?’

  “You’re Kenny Miller?”

  “Brandon Miller. Kenny is my dad.”

  “Ah. I need to speak with Mr. Kenny Miller. I’m Detective Bartoni and this is Detective Dan Roberts.”

  “Bartoni? I’ve heard of you. My dad has talked about you,” Brandon replied.

  “Is he home?’

  “Sure. Come on in. I’ll go get him. Have a seat,” he said and went off to another room.

  It was a few minutes later when Brandon wheeled Kenny in. He was in a wheelchair and had a brace around his neck.

  “Detective Bartoni. Nice to see you again.”

  “Mr. Miller.”

  “Kenny, please.”

  “Okay. Kenny. The last time I saw you was at the sentencing stage of the trial.”

  “Right, well things have kind of gone downhill since then as you can see.”

  “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

  “Car wreck
. I’m lucky to be alive so they tell me. I’m not so sure I agree with that assessment,” Kenny said.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Three years ago. Seems longer in reality,” he said.

  “Geez I’m so sorry Mr. Miller.”

  “Kenny, and you didn’t do it. The drunk who caused it didn’t have a scratch on him. Where is the justice in that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just so sorry to find this out.”

  “Well, water under the bridge. So what can I do for you detectives?”

  “Actually, we were here about Stillwell, Bell, and Sharp.”

  “Yeah, I saw they got killed. Gotta tell you, that’s the best news I have had in a long time. Whoever is doing it, I hope they finish the job.”

  “Kenny, we can’t have that. I mean we can’t let people inflict their own justice like that. I now have to go and catch them and put them in jail. I don’t want to do it but it’s my job.”

  “Really? You know what they did to my wife. You know every detail. Probably more than I do. You think they should be allowed to walk the streets again? Do you think that is justice? Do you call that justice for my Linda? No. What happened to Stillwell and his pals is justice. Don’t expect me to cry any tears over scum like that. If you came here to see if I could point you in the right direction you have wasted your time. I want them all dead. I want them to suffer a slow and painful death,” Kenny said with his jaw clinched so hard I thought he might break his teeth.

  What could I really say? Deep inside I didn’t feel all that much different. The only difference being that I knew that you couldn’t step over that line. Once over it, you could never go back.

  “Alright Kenny, I won’t insult you by asking if you know who could be behind this. I do understand your feelings but I still have a job to do,” I replied.

  “Then you are going to have to do it without my help. I just hope he gets the other three before you catch him. I know you are a hell of a cop and I would imagine if anyone can get them it will be you but what would it hurt if you let them finish the job first?”