by Al Boudreau
“I … I’m sorry,” Sibyl said as she stopped and turned---just as we were about to step behind the workstation. “I feel like I should be asking for some kind of identification before allowing you back here. I mean, you’re not wearing any kind of uniform or badge, so…”
I reached in my back pocket for my private investigator’s license when I heard Detective James behind me.
“Seen the footage, yet?” he asked as he approached.
“Sibyl, here, was just about to make that happen, but she wanted to see some identification from me, first,” I replied.
“Good move, Sybil,” James said as he unclipped his badge from his belt. “Detective James, Bridgeport Police Department. This is Carter Peterson. Carter’s a private detective who’s assisting my department with this investigation. Speaking of which, let’s see what you’ve got to show us.”
Sibyl turned and took a seat at her workstation. A few keystrokes later and the footage began to play.
The three of us remained silent as we watched an individual make their way across the tarmac to the far side of the gym’s back parking lot. It became apparent this person was headed for a lone, late-model sedan, sitting well away from where the bulk of Jonesey’s members usually parked.
“Sibyl, did you---” James’s words were cut short as the assailant appeared on the small screen---so quickly and aggressively that we were all startled by the act playing out before us. Even Sibyl twitched, though she’d seen the footage a number of times, already.
As we watched, the glow cast by the single sodium halogen street light at the far corner of the lot proved useless, serving only to heighten the queasiness I felt as the fateful attack unfolded. The distance between the camera and the incident was too great to see any real detail that might prove useful in identifying the lone assailant.
We watched the assault in its entirety before anyone said a word. James was first to speak. “Sibyl, I’d like for us to watch it again. Would you please go back to the point where we first saw the individual enter the lot?”
“OK,” she said and obliged.
“Give us a moment to watch this alone, would you?” James requested, at which point the young woman turned and made her way out into the active area of the facility.
“We don’t see anything but the victim’s backside until the attacker pops up out of the weeds near the vehicle,” James said. “At that point, they’re too far away for us to see either of their faces.”
“Right.” I paused for a beat then said, “Well, if we do find that the blood out back matches that of our victim found at the strip mall, at least we’ll have an accurate description of height on the attacker. Same stature on both of them.”
“Good call,” James replied. We were both silent for a beat as we watched the attack unfold a second time when James blurted out, “See that? Looked like the attacker tried to tase the victim, but it doesn’t appear to have worked.”
I’d watched Sibyl adjust the playback for us prior to leaving us alone, so I reached down, worked the keys, and started the video again at the point the attacker appeared. A few seconds later I saw exactly what James was referring to. “Nice catch, Detective,” I said. “Especially from that distance. OK, look at that. The attacker tossed the Taser onto the ground and went for his belt.”
“I’m with you,” James said. “Probably had a knife tucked inside a sheath. OK, they struggle … boom, there it is. See that. She recoiled. Hard to see, but that may be where she sustained the gash to the bicep.”
“Yep. She’s clutching her arm, not moving much.”
“Looks like he tries to grab her, or something she has, then they both go down to the ground. He prevails … and the headlights on the car flash.”
“Must have been going for her keys.”
“Bingo,” James replied. “So, he unlocks the vehicle, gets her to her feet, then gathers up the Taser and climbs inside, dragging her in behind him.”
“Right,” I said. “Thing is, they entered on the driver’s side, which means she was the one who drove them out of the parking lot.”
“Probably so he could control the situation better. I’m sure she wasn’t too keen on sustaining any more wounds.”
“Yep. From the looks of the parking lot, she lost a fair amount of blood.”
James turned and looked out into the gym area. “Excuse me, Sibyl. Mind coming back over? We’ve got some questions for you.”
She nodded and approached.
“The person on the video who’s leaving the gym. Do you recognize that individual?”
“Yes. I don’t really know her, but her name is Robbie. She’s been coming here for as I long as I’ve worked at the gym.”
“Which is how long?” I asked.
“I started right after New Year’s Day,” she replied. “So, a little over six months.”
James wrote the information down in his notebook. “This question is important, Sibyl. I know it’s very difficult to see much detail at such a distance, but is there any way you might be able to identify the person who attacked Robbie?”
“No. Sorry,” she said. “I watched the video again and again, but nothing stands out to me.”
“I understand,” James said. “Is there anything at all you can tell us about Robbie that might be helpful? Ever see her have any disagreements with other people here at the gym. Arguments?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Think any other staff members might have information concerning what I just asked you?”
“It’s possible, but … well, I work here a lot. Seven days in a row some weeks. Robbie came in about three times a week, did the same routine, and left. She usually worked the Nautilus equipment. Stayed for about an hour, each time. I don’t remember ever seeing her come in here with anyone, or talk to anyone while she was here.”
“I see,” James said. “Listen, Sibyl, have you spoken to your boss, or to the owners of the gym about this? The reason I’m asking is because we’re going to need a copy of this surveillance footage. It’s now considered evidence in our investigation.”
“I talked to both of them,” Sibyl replied. “Right after I called the police station. They told me to cooperate, and to give you whatever you need. Um, I … I can send the file wherever you want me to.”
James handed Sibyl his card. “Directly to this internet address, please.”
She sat down at the workstation, clicked away at the keyboard for about five seconds, then turned to us. “Sent.”
“Thank you,” James said.
“Listen, I caught one of the staff returning from the scene as we pulled up,” I told James. “Kid had taken a photo of the area. Which I erased from his phone, by the way.”
James turned to Sibyl. “Who else has been out there, besides you and this other kid?”
“No one,” she replied. “There are only four of us on this morning. Only two of us have been out there.”
“Did you walk across or around the area where the crime took place?” I asked.
Sibyl shook her head. “Neither. I stopped as soon as I noticed the … the blood. I thought I was going to pass out. I turned around before I even got near it and came back inside. That’s when I called nine-one-one.”
“See anything lying out there, or pick anything up?” James asked.
“No, sir,” she responded.
“Good, good,” he said to her then turned to me. “Carter, which kid did you catch poking around out back?”
I pointed toward the young man then followed James over to where the kid was standing.
“What’s your name, son?” James inquired.
“Rick.”
James proceeded to ask the kid the same questions he’d hit Sibyl with, then said, “Lift up your foot so I can see the sole of your shoe.” Rick obliged as James shot several images of the kid’s footwear. “Better not be lying to me, Rick, because if I find out you contaminated my crime scene, you’re going to be in some serious hot water.”
&n
bsp; “I swear, I just walked up to the edge,” he insisted. “I stayed right on the pavement.”
Satisfied for now, we made our way outside toward Sarah, who was still keeping an eye on the area where the assault took place.
“Meet you over there,” James said as he veered off toward his cruiser. “I’ve got to grab some gloves and some bags.”
“That took a while,” Sarah shouted as I got closer.
“Yep. Sorry about that. We watched the video footage of the assault several times then spoke with some of the staff.”
“I took a thorough look around here while you were gone,” Sarah said. “There are two different sets of partial footprints in the silt that are decent enough to get clear photos of. Didn’t find anything else, though.”
“We’ve got to start somewhere, right?”
“Absolutely. What about the video. Anything there we can use?”
“The assailant looks to be the same height as the victim, and the employee who called the police said the woman in the video was named Robbie.”
“So, we’ve got an approximate height. Do we know if we’re looking for a man or a woman, yet?”
“Too far away to tell for sure,” I said. “But, the assailant left the parking lot with the victim. In the vic’s car. Once we get a positive ID on the vehicle, we can get a plate number and issue a BOLO.”
“Afternoon, Sarah,” James said as he approached.
“Detective. I was just telling Carter about these,” she said while pointing out the footprints left in the silt.
James walked over, crouched down, and took several shots of the prints. He then repositioned and took a few more before putting his camera down. “I’m going to bag a blood sample and get it over to the lab right away. The gym employee who called us claims the woman we saw on the footage has the same first name as our vic, but I want to be sure it was really Robbie Kramer before we devote a lot of resources to chasing down this lead.”
“Don’t blame you,” I said. “When you’re understaffed, every man hour becomes far more precious.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” James responded as he carefully scraped the blood-soaked soil up and into the evidence bag. “Weren’t we supposed to be able to clone ourselves by now? Because, I’d make clones of all three of us so we could get caught up.”
“The thought of having another me running around Bridgeport kind of freaks me out a little bit,” Sarah said. “I don’t want to have to take responsibility for what the other me might do or say while I’m busy somewhere else.”
James let go a chuckle. “Never thought about that aspect of having a clone.”
“We don’t need the bad guys cloning themselves, either,” I said. “Bad enough as it is.”
“True,” Sarah said. “Let’s just nix the whole cloning thing, OK?”
“Deal,” James said. “Listen, I’m going to spend a few more minutes looking around here. You two mind jumping back on the research aspect of the investigation? I’d like to see what we can come up with, concerning background information on this Kramer woman, ASAP.”
“Whatever you need,” I said. “Oh, could you get us information on Kramer’s height? She’s fairly tall, but we need to know how tall.”
“Definitely. I’ll call the medical examiner’s office once I get on the road. You’ll know as soon as I know. Figured I’d go take a look around Kramer’s apartment after I stop by the lab---if dispatch gives me a free second, that is. Maybe I can talk to a few of Kramer’s neighbors.”
“Give us a shout if you find anything,” Sarah added.
“Trust me,” James replied. “You’ll be the first to know.”
Chapter 8
Sarah looked over at me as we left Detective James and the parking lot of Jonesey’s Gym behind. “As soon as we get home, I think we should print out a map of Bridgeport then plot where each of our three vics lived and worked. It might reveal an angle we haven’t thought of, yet.”
“Not a bad idea. Maybe include where each of them was discovered, too.”
“Yes. Definitely. There’s a chance these murders could be random, but, considering the method this maniac used to take these people’s lives, I’ve got to believe there’s more to it than that.”
“You mean our theory about the killer’s motive being to punish these folks?” I asked.
“Your theory,” Sarah said. “Which I think is a good one.”
“Thanks, but we shouldn’t get locked into any particular concept this early on. It could sway our judgment, or cause us to miss a key piece of the puzzle.”
“I agree, but … well, I just think the idea has a lot of validity. It’s worth looking into. A place to start, at least.”
“Fair enough. Let’s plot the map, like you suggested, and see if anything jumps out at us.”
“Did you ask James to send us a copy of the surveillance footage from Jonesey’s?” Sarah asked.
“I didn’t, but my guess is he’ll send one, anyway.”
“Was it disturbing to watch?”
I nodded. “Jarring, to say the least. The assailant was hiding in the scrub brush. Jumped out and attempted to zap the vic with the stun gun. Didn’t work, for whatever reason, so it appears the assailant then pulled out a knife. There was a struggle and both parties fell to the ground.”
“Explains all that blood,” Sarah said.
“Yep.”
“Man … that creeps me out. If someone did that to me, I swear, I’d be so terrified I’d probably take their head right off their shoulders.”
“Who could blame you?” I said. “Not to change the subject, but I wonder if the attacker used the same tactics on Cutter and Sprague. You know, lying in wait for them then incapacitating them with the jolt of electricity?”
“Maybe the attacker subdued Mark Cutter with the electric shock, then threatened him with the knife, too. That way, this sicko could get Cutter to the location the fireplace tool handle was heated up.”
I thought for a moment about what Sarah had just said. “You just convinced me further that this map-plotting idea is a solid plan.”
“How so?”
“What if the killer was able to heat up that handle and use it on Sprague in Fort Frederick Park because the killer’s base of operations is close to that location? Could be the killer lives close to the park, or works close to it.”
“Interesting theory,” Sarah said. “That would explain why the other two were moved after they were murdered.”
I signaled the turn onto our street and said, “Sprague was the first victim killed out of the three. That fact might come into play, too.”
“Do you suppose the person or persons we’re looking for are Bridgeport residents?”
“Hard to say for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “All signs seem to point to it, so far.”
I pulled into our driveway, eager to get to work. “If you want to go ahead and print a copy of Bridgeport’s map, I’ll make a quick list of all the locations we need to plot.”
“I’m on it,” Sarah replied.
I took a seat at the dining room table as soon as we got inside, then took out my notebook and reviewed what I’d jotted down. As soon as I felt confident I had my facts straight, I listed the home, work, and discovery locations for our three vics, along with the Jonesey’s Gym location.
Less than a minute had passed when Sarah walked in and placed the map on the table in front of me. “How do you want to organize this?”
I sat back and thought about her question for a beat. “Could you grab the three markers from my desk, please? Let’s color-key the vic’s homes in green, places of employment in yellow, and discovery locations in blue.”
“That’ll work,” she said. “Be right back.”
I took my pen and started by drawing small circles at each location on the map, then listed the respective names beside each of them. By the time Sarah returned I had nearly half the locations plotted.
“Here you go,” she said an
d pulled a chair over close to mine. “Wow. You’re going right to town on this thing.”
“Yep. No time to waste.” I finished laying out the plot then began coloring in the small circles I’d drawn.
“Huh. Look at that,” Sarah said. “The strip mall, the Lobster Shack, and the apartment Robbie Kramer lived in are all on the south side.”
“True,” I said. “Yet, the gym where she was grabbed is about as far north as you can get in Bridgeport before crossing over into the State of Maine.”
“Mark Cutter’s locations are close to one another, too. All on the north side, and all near the river.”
“Right. Vincent Sprague only has two locations, but both are adjacent to the downtown area.”
“Fort Frederick Park is such a wide-open area,” Sarah said. “How does someone commit such a horrific act without being seen?”
“There is a line of trees running through the middle,” I said. “According to the file, that’s where Sprague was murdered. Plus, it happened late at night.”
“I think we should go down there once we’re done with the research we promised James. A site visit to the park could give us a better idea of how the incident might have played out.”
“Certainly can’t hurt. Let’s get to work and find all we can on Kramer. One of us can focus on social media while the other works the search engines.”
“I’ll take search engines,” Sarah said. “Social media’s too dangerous. I’ll definitely get sidetracked.”
I laughed. “Fair enough.”
Chapter 9
I’d been sitting in my office chair for about twenty minutes, scanning Robbie Kramer’s former social media presence, when I heard Sarah’s footsteps coming down the hall at a faster than normal pace.
“Think I may have found something significant,” she announced before entering my office.
“Wish I could say the same,” I replied. “What have you got?”
“Well, seems this Kramer woman wasn’t afraid to get physical when someone got under her skin,” Sarah said. “According to this newspaper article I found from about four months ago, the owner of the Lobster Shack was quoted as saying, ‘I give my staff a lot of flexibility when it comes to dealing with unruly customers. Twice, my bartender Robbie has put obnoxious male troublemakers in their place by delivering a real shot when and where it counts: right in the jaw.’ He goes on to say that neither of the patrons ended up filing police reports. Said they were probably too embarrassed.”
