A Touch to Die For

by Brian D. Meeks

  "Where is her roommate?"

  "She is in Tempe, Arizona, at a conference. She's been contacted and is coming back tonight. She's very upset and doesn't know who might have done this."

  "The other two victims were found outdoors. It doesn't look like our killer took a trophy. My first thought is that nothing seems to be disturbed."

  "CSI went through the place and didn't find anything that helps, though I'll make sure to get you the report because I don't want to assume."

  "Who has been interviewed?"

  "I have the transcripts from twenty-two interviews conducted with people in the building and co-workers. It is in the car."

  "Where did she work?"

  "A bar three blocks from here. It will be easiest to walk there."

  As they walked, Alexis didn't say anything. Jamal found it refreshing because she didn't resort to chit chat, which he hated to do with people he barely knew. When they got there, she talked to the manager and found out that everyone had been interviewed except the bartender, Hector Martin, who had the day off. He was the last one to see her at the end of her shift.

  They walked another four blocks to his door. Jamal pounded on the door. Nobody answered, so he knocked again and said, "Hector Martin, FBI, we'd like a word with you." He turned to Alex and asked, "Should we come back?"

  She reached down and turned the knob. The door opened, but Jamal stepped in front of her. "Excuse me, but we need to get a warrant."

  "You are probably right, although I'm not sure Hector is going to mind," she said, pointing towards the floor.

  The door had swung past one foot and stopped when it hit the left foot of a lifeless body. Alexis said, "I don't want to assume that is Hector, but if I were to guess..."

  "I'll call it in."

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Alexis had been sleeping for a few hours when the phone rang.

  "Alex, you there?"

  "Mostly."

  "Did I wake you?"

  "What time is it?"

  "A little after midnight. Should we get together in the morning?"

  "Meet me in the bar."

  "That's where I'm calling from."

  Alexis threw on a tee shirt, pulled on some jeans, and put her hair in a pony tail. She looked in the mirror and considered make-up but figured she was less scary than the guy they were chasing.

  Chavez stood when she entered and gave Alexis a hug, "It is good to see you. You're looking great."

  "I look like a sleepy, drowned rat."

  "Fair enough. I'm not going to argue."

  "You could argue a little," she said wryly.

  Chavez pulled out a file. "I've got the latest. It includes the report about the guy you found."

  "Give me the highlights."

  "Your killer seems to have settled into a quick taser, ether, plastic bag over the head pattern."

  "My killer? He hasn't killed me. How did he become my killer?"

  "You found him first."

  "So, anything connecting the two victims to the ones in Italy?"

  "Both victims worked at the same bar, so they were connected to one another. It seems they were involved at one point."

  "He's smart; that is obvious. No drama, no clues. He's keeping it simple. I don't think he wants to get caught."

  "Even more than that, it doesn't seem like ATM is yearning for fame. The Video Killer, however, is on a quest. He has a mission to punish people he thinks have slighted him. He flaunts it and is probably watching CNN all night waiting for the fame to start."

  "How is the case going?"

  "It doesn't appear there are any ties between the first victim or victims - he was traveling with a friend who has also not been seen since - and the mechanic. I don't expect to find anything, either. Sadly, with serial killers, it often takes a lot more victims before we get a good enough picture to find them. Even then, sometimes we never do."

  The quiet filled for each of them with the thoughts of the inevitable: they needed more victims and a small amount of luck.

  Alexis had been sleeping for a few hours when the phone rang.

  #

  Paul ate a late dinner but now was hungry again. It was close to one in the morning, and he felt like it was time to eat.

  Paul had followed Mitch most of the day. Two things had struck Paul about him: Mitch seemed to be in a much better mood, and he mostly stayed within a few blocks of his apartment building. Paul had been concerned that Mitch might not come into contact with enough people, but today alone had brought six great candidates.

  Each candidate needed to be vetted, though. Some people lived in areas that had far too many cameras. Paul needed to be almost invisible for now. The idea was to be seen but from behind with only the tell-tale hat as the significant clue. He didn't know how good the data geeks were at the FBI, but he figured that eventually someone would notice the hat.

  Mitch lived in a nice building, but the camera to the garage entrance had been vandalized. As long as he waited until Mitch was home for the night, his nemesis didn't have an alibi. It would be a reasonable assumption that he had returned home through the lobby but then left to kill his victims.

  Today, Paul had eliminated three of the potential victims, killed two more, and left one as a possible future kill. The process was becoming almost mundane. Shock, ether, bag, carve ATM in the spot that Mitch had touched them and leave. Mitch was a big fan of patting people on the shoulder, which made it easy. The waitress, though, he had to take her top off and then put it back on. It was a pain.

  He thought about what he might do if he found someone home but not alone. He carried a second taser just in case.

  Paul got himself a sandwich from an all-night deli and went back to his room. He took out his partner in crime, the can of Pepsi, and set it on the TV. He hid it each morning out of fear that housekeeping might throw out his friend. "Pepsi, we've got four in the bag but still no news coverage."

  Pepsi seemed impressed.

  "I doubt they've found today's work yet. I wonder how many bodies it will take before the press gets a hold of it?"

  Paul had avoided doing any searches about his other killings but decided to log onto Twitter and see if there were any hashtags about it. He didn't need to search for long; "Video Killer" was trending and near the top.

  There were all sorts of different comments. One person tweeted something about him burning in hell. Another person suggested that lawyers would make a fine target. There were a surprising number of people who had ideas for victims. Some people were frightened; others talked about gun control; a few made references to The Buggles '79 hit and how it was the first video aired on MTV.

  "Pepsi, it seems our test cases are creating a bit of a buzz," he said with a small measure of pride. An email came through from Eric. The party would be in four days if that was okay with him. Paul didn't want to go but knew there was little choice. The last thing he wanted to do was make people think he was losing it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  "Mr. Pendleton, Agent Chavez is on the line as you requested."

  "Thanks, Elaine, and would you send up Nancy Granville, please?" he said as he took line one. "Chavez, where are you?"

  "I'm still in New York."

  "I'm not trying to question how you are handling things, but it looks like this Video Killer is blowing up, and I'm not seeing even a scintilla of progress. Why are you working the ATM case, too?"

  "You know why, and you signed off on it."

  "How is Alex doing?"

  "She's great...her mind is just as sharp as ever."

  "I'm glad, and I'm sure she is helpful, but you've been there a week and what have you to show for it?"

  "We're chasing down some leads."

  "Bullshit. You've got nothing, and nobody knows about this case. The Video Killer is blowing up on the internet, and now I'm not just getting calls from the networks, The White House has taken an in
terest."

  "You know how these things go; Dennis Lynn Rader killed ten people over a 17 year span and just stopped. He wasn't caught until 2005 - 14 years after the last victim."

  "I don't need a history lesson about BTK. What I need are results."

  "You've never been one to complain about a little heat from the press."

  "The analysts say that there are over three hundred million views across the world wide web."

  "I saw the coverage on CNN, but there isn't anything we can do. There hasn't been a new video in a week. The ATM killer has killed seven times now, not counting the ones in Italy. New York is where we need to put our resources."

  "Hold on a minute; I'm putting you on speaker," he said, "Agent Granville is with me now."

  Agent Granville said, "Hello, Agent Chavez."

  "Good morning. Anything new?"

  "The area where the killings have taken place, with the exception of the two in Italy, is roughly a 36 square block space, which leads us to believe the killer lives or works there."

  Director Pendleton leaned back and let Chavez take over the meeting.

  Chavez said, "That narrows down the suspect pool some, but the number of people in that part of Manhattan who work or live there must still be hundreds of thousands."

  "Yes, possibly over a half million, if one factors in traffic passing through, but it is likely those people aren't stopping off to suffocate people in their homes. I mean, parking is such a bitch."

  "You know New York?"

  "I know data. There are over..."

  "Please don't tell me how many cars versus parking spaces there are."

  "Okay, I won't, but it is really fascinating."

  "Save it for the party when we catch this bastard."

  "I've gotten video files from 137 different cameras that run twenty-four seven. Each day they send me the previous day's video. Currently, we have 23,016 hours of video."

  "That's a lot of popcorn."

  "I've written some code to look for repeating faces and people. It is quite clever; it takes an image of every person in a frame, records the important features in a database, and, if there is a visible face, saves that to a different file. Then it runs a check..."

  "How about the short version?"

  "I'm looking for regulars, people who are in this section of town every day. I'm cross referencing them with the seven victims to see whose paths cross. The victims are all on cameras, so we have their movements. Somewhere among this mountain of data is a single person who is connected to them all."

  "How long will this take to run?"

  "If there aren't any more killings, a solid ten days or more."

  "That is less than I would have expected."

  "What about the victims? Are there any threads that tie them together, any commonalities, any reason they were chosen?"

  There was a pause and a heavy sigh. "I found one, but it seems unlikely."

  "What is it?"

  "None of the victims had cars, but, according to the latest census data, 55.7 percent of households in New York City don't have cars, so, while it is unusual, there is still a 1.663 percent chance you would have that happen by choosing seven people at random. Long odds but not out of the realm of possibilities."

  "Check to see if the DMV has been hacked recently. I agree with your assessment, but I'm sure the Director doesn't want us to leave anything to chance."

  "You would be assuming correctly. That is good work Agent Granville. Keep at it."

  Nancy left and Pendleton said, "She's bright. I see why you wanted her on the Video Killer case, but now she is spending all her time on ATM."

  "Again, it is because that is where we need to be."

  "Let's not beat around the bush. I'm ready to be done with all of this, and my new Ping irons will be arriving today. I can't be seen out enjoying a round at Pebble Beach with someone posting graphic murders. We are being mocked."

  "I don't see it that way. The Video Killer is on some sort of crusade. He...or she isn't done, and Granville has already written a program that is monitoring Twitter, FB, and God knows what else looking for patterns. The problem is, as she explained it to me last night, there doesn't seem to be anything more than idle chatter."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She's hoping to find someone who is taking part in the chatter, defending the killings, and doing it a bit too vigorously."

  "There are people defending the killings?"

  "He is developing a fan club, mostly from the auto mechanic. Apparently, a lot of people have been screwed by their mechanics and didn't find it at all bothersome that someone struck back. The kid in the field, not as much, but still there are a few."

  "We need more data is what you're telling me."

  "It's the curse of this business. If we can't find a killer, we need them to strike again."

  "At least nobody is talking about ATM."

  "Knock on woods...or are they called metals now?"

  "For a non-golfer, that wasn't bad. Talk to you tomorrow."

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Paul walked into his home and said, "Fire up the computer, CINDY."

  CINDY said, "Welcome home, Captain. Would you like a cold beverage?"

  "No, thanks."

  He pulled out the Pepsi can he had carefully wrapped in a tee shirt with "I heart NY" on it and set it on his desk. "Sarge, I have to tell you, it's good to be home."

  A week filled with following Mitch all day and taking care of business at night had worn Paul out. He still wasn't sleeping much, but the plan was working so well that he hadn't worried about it. The relative ease with which he had gotten people to open their doors had surprised him. He smiled, remembering when he said "candy gram" and feeling a slight disappointment that his lovely victim didn't get the "land shark" reference. She was too young.

  The suggestions from some of his fans intrigued him. "Pepsi, do you think that if I started making videos on demand, it might be a hit?"

  Pepsi said, "I really think it might."

  Paul looked at the can blankly.

  Pepsi, who wasn't one to repeat himself, said again, "Yes, I think it might be a huge success. Let's start with the lawyers. Everyone hates lawyers."

  "You know, they really do. But what type?"

  "The type that bring lawsuits for coffee being hot."

  "Oh, I hate those cases, and the stupid people who hire the lawyers."

  "I know you do; that's why I suggested it."

  "You are very smart but where to begin?"

  Pepsi gave him a look, one that obviously meant "Google, duh," so Paul started searching the news. He looked at a case involving siding but, after reading it, decided the builder probably was liable. The next case involved a question of faulty wiring in a toaster that caused a fire. He dismissed the candidate when the next article he read covered the recall and apology the company had made. It seemed the case also was legitimate.

  The next article was about a case that had just finished. A man and his wife, who lived in Oakland, sued the manufacturer of a liquid adhesive that had ignited when it had been set on the floor next to their space heater. The can had the words "keep away from heat" and "flammable" marked in giant red letters but that wasn't sufficient, and the jury awarded the couple five million dollars.

  Paul was disgusted. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and started to think. After a while he said, "You know, Pepsi, I think we can do a better job on the video if we plan it out a little."

  In ninety minutes he had the address of the new house the couple lived in and that of the lead attorney. Paul grabbed his keys and drove to a Wal-Mart in Oakland.

  The liquid adhesive was easy to find, but he was disappointed to discover that the cans had already been changed. They had even larger warnings about the product being flammable. He considered buying two cans but decided that was pointless because he really just wanted to photograph the original label. Paul took out his iPhone an
d took a couple of shots of the new label and left.

  A block later he saw an old True Value. They hadn't replaced the old adhesive with the new, and he got the shot he wanted. The video was going to be brilliant. He went home to work on the script.

  #

  Paul expected he might need to force himself to enjoy the party, but the anticipation of the "after party" had him in such a good mood that he was jovial beyond anyone's expectations. It made him smile as he splashed water on Attorney Marty Wiserman's face.

  "Wake up now; we've got some things to discuss."

  The attorney groggily opened his eyes. He looked at the duct tape on his wrists and felt it around his legs and waist. "Who are you?"

  "I'd like to discuss a case you recently won."

  "You could have made an appointment. I would be glad to pencil something in if you'll just untie my hands."

  Paul looked at the man. He didn't seem frightened. "The case you just won - why did you take it in the first place?"

  "I thought I could win."

  "Really? Why? I mean the cans are extremely well labeled."

  "I know, but I don't deal in facts. I deal in persuasion."

  "So, you admit that the company had done a reasonable job of displaying the dangers of their product?"

  "Personally, I wouldn't have set the can next to a space heater if that's what you mean."

  Paul didn't know what to make of this guy. The man just stared at him, waiting for the next question or trying to size up the situation. Paul hadn't scripted for this sort of response.

  Marty said, "I know you. At least, I think I do. I probably shouldn't have said that, but I suspect it isn't going to change things for me much."

  "You're right about that last part."

  "You're Paul Lemstock, the billionaire tech guru who just retired. It was on fucking CNN, and now you're here filming me. Are you the one who did the mechanic?"

  "Marty, you are pretty quick. Yes on both counts, but how did you know about the mechanic?"

  "I don't want to sound like a kiss-ass or anything, and I'm not trying to get out of what I assume is inevitable, but I'm a bit of a fan. I fucking hate mechanics. I even laughed some when I saw people suggesting you do a lawyer next. It's less funny now."