by Chris Carter
‘But that comes at a price,’ Hunter concluded.
‘Get a load of this – prices start at a mere four thousand dollars.’
‘Phew,’ Hunter whistled as he sat down.
‘Exactly. These wigs are made to order. It can take anywhere between one to two months for them to be ready and that means that whoever ordered it has to leave an address or a contact number.’ Garcia smiled enthusiastically. ‘There can’t be that many places in Los Angeles that sell European hair wigs.’
‘Catherine?’
‘What?’
‘Have you checked with Catherine Slater? Maybe she wears wigs. A lot of women do these days. She could definitely afford them.’
‘No, not yet.’ Garcia’s enthusiasm was half damped. ‘I’ll get on it straight away, but if she doesn’t wear wigs, don’t you think it’s worth getting in touch with all wigmakers in LA that sell European hair wigs?’
Hunter scratched his chin. ‘Yeah, we can give it a try. I just think our killer is too smart for that.’
‘Too smart for what?’
‘You said these wigs are made to order?’
‘Correct.’
‘But I bet if you walk into a wigmaker they would have one or two on display, like a showcase. Our killer wouldn’t be stupid enough to order a wig and leave behind a paper trail. He would simply take whatever the wigmaker had on display, pay cash for it and that would be that. Remember, the killer isn’t buying the wig for its looks, so any one would do.’ Hunter got up and walked over to the coffee machine. ‘There’s one more thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The internet,’ Hunter said.
Garcia frowned.
‘The internet can help us and hinder us at the same time,’ Hunter explained. ‘Maybe a few years ago it would’ve been a case of us checking the wigmakers and with just a little luck we would’ve come across something that could lead us to our killer, but today . . .’ He poured himself a cup of coffee. ‘Today the killer could order it over the internet from any country in the world and the wig would be with him in less than a week. He could’ve bought it from Japan or Australia or directly from Eastern Europe.’ He paused, another thought entering his mind. ‘And then we have eBay, where the killer could’ve bought it from a private owner and no one would ever know. This guy is too smart to leave a paper trail behind.’
Garcia had to admit Hunter had a point. Any half-clever person could buy almost anything over the internet these days and leave such a minuscule trail it would be almost impossible to trace it. It’s just a case of knowing where to shop.
‘We might get lucky, he might’ve taken us for granted and ordered a wig from a shop,’ Garcia said positively.
‘Maybe. I’m not discarding any possibilities. We’ll check with all wigmakers just in case.’
‘I just wanted to get at least one step closer to him before he adds another photograph to that damn board,’ Garcia said, pointing to the corkboard and drawing Hunter’s attention to it.
Hunter stood motionless for a while, his eyes fixed on the photographs.
‘Are you OK?’ Garcia asked after a minute of silence. ‘You’re not blinking.’
Hunter lifted his hand asking Garcia to wait a second. ‘We’re missing something there,’ he finally said.
Garcia turned and faced the board. All the pictures were there. Nothing had been moved, he was sure of it.
‘What are we missing?’
‘Another victim.’
Forty-Eight
‘What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean, we’re missing a victim? They are all there, seven from the first killing spree and two since he started killing again.’ Garcia’s eyes moved from the photograph board to Hunter.
‘We have a victim he didn’t mark, no double-crucifix on the back of the neck, no phone call to me. We have a victim he didn’t kill.’
‘A victim he didn’t kill? Are you high? That doesn’t even make sense.’
‘Of course it does. He didn’t kill him as he’s done with all his other victims . . . he got him killed.’
‘Are you listening to yourself, crazy man? Who didn’t he kill?’
Hunter’s gaze fell on Garcia. ‘Mike Farloe.’
‘Mike Farloe?’ Garcia looked mystified.
‘The real killer framed him as the Crucifix Killer, remember? I’ve even mentioned it before, over the phone when the killer called me right after we found the faceless woman, but for some reason it didn’t click.’
‘I remember you saying it, yes. I was standing right next to you.’
‘Framing him makes Mike Farloe a victim.’
‘By default,’ Garcia accepted it.
‘That doesn’t matter, he’s still a victim.’ Hunter walked back to his desk and started shuffling through pieces of paper. ‘OK, what do we know about our killer?’
‘Nothing,’ Garcia replied with a half chuckle.
‘That’s not true. We know he’s very methodical, intelligent, pragmatic and he chooses his victims very, very carefully.’
‘OK,’ Garcia said still unsure.
‘The killer didn’t just pick Mike Farloe out of the blue. Just like his victims, the subject had to fit a specific profile. The difference here is that the subject had to fit the profile of a killer. To be precise, the profile of a sadistic, religious serial killer.’
Garcia started to pick up on Hunter’s theory. ‘Meaning that if you had arrested someone who didn’t fit that profile you would’ve discarded him as the killer?’
‘Correct. The killer is smart but he also knows we’re not stupid. We wouldn’t just fall for the first person he decided to frame. It had to be the right person. Someone believable. Someone that we’d buy. Mike Farloe was the perfect choice.’
Garcia ran both of his hands through his hair pulling it back and making a small ponytail. ‘Did Mike have a criminal record?’
‘Fuck yeah. In and out of Juvi halls . . . Three county convictions for public nudity. He loved exposing himself to schoolkids.’
‘Pedophile?’ Garcia asked with a twist of his mouth.
‘With a capital P. He did twenty-eight months for fondling a twelve-year-old boy in a lavatory downtown.’
Garcia shook his head.
‘And where do you find a person like Mike Farloe?’ Hunter proceeded.
‘Maybe the killer knew him from before,’ Garcia offered.
‘Possible, but I doubt it. Mike was a loner, lived alone, no wife, no girlfriend, no kids. He worked as a garbage collector and spent most of his free time locked inside his little dirty apartment reading the Bible. The guy didn’t have much of a life.’
‘How about a medical record? Our killer could have access to medical records. One thing we do know is that he has medical knowledge, even Doctor Winston said he wouldn’t be surprised if the killer turned out to be a surgeon.’
Hunter nodded. ‘I was thinking exactly that.’
‘Religious cults, churches? If Mike attended any, the killer could’ve singled him out there.’
‘We’ll check that out too.’
‘What else do we know about Mike Farloe?’ Garcia asked.
‘Not much. There was no reason to investigate him any further, he confessed remember.’
‘Yes I do, and that brings me to my first why. Why the hell did he confess? Why would he confess to such heinous crimes if he didn’t commit them and he knew he’d get death?’
‘To end his life with something,’ Hunter said decisively.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You’ve heard about people that don’t have the guts to commit suicide, so instead they buy a gun and walk down the street waving it about. The police arrive, tell the person to put the gun down, the person waves it about a little more and the police shoot him dead.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of suicide by cop.’
‘Correct. This follows the same theory. As I’ve said Mike was a loner, no friends, not much of a life and no prospect of getting
a better one either. He obviously knew about the Crucifix Killer.’
‘Everyone knew about the Crucifix Killer, the press made sure of it.’
‘Right, so you won’t be surprised to know that there were some religiously fanatical people out there that actually thought the Crucifix Killer was doing the right thing. Killing sinners.’
‘And Mike was one of them,’ Garcia completed Hunter’s sentence.
‘He probably ran the fan club.’
Garcia laughed.
‘Anyway, to these people the Crucifix Killer was a hero, someone doing God’s work, and suddenly Mike was handed the opportunity to become his hero.’
‘You mean take the rap for his hero?’
‘It makes no difference. To the rest of the world Mike Farloe’s name would become synonymous with the Crucifix Killer. He’d leave his life of obscurity behind. His name would be mentioned in books and studied in criminology classes. He would in death have the fame he never had when living.’
‘But you said Mike knew certain things about the victims that probably only the killer would know . . . like the reasons for killing them. He’d mentioned things like one of the victims fucking her way to the top of her company. How would he know that?’
‘Because the killer told him,’ Hunter concluded.
‘What?’
‘Just think about it. You’re the killer right, and you want to frame someone for what you’ve done. You finally find the right person. You befriend him.’
‘Something that wouldn’t be very hard to do since Mike had no friends.’
‘That’s right. Most of your conversations would revolve around the Crucifix Killings. How great a job the killer is doing in ridding the world of sinners or what have you. Now you start filling Mike’s head up with rumors. “I’ve heard that one of the victims was a diseased prostitute . . . another had sex with everyone in her company just to get to the top.”’ Hunter put on a different voice pretending to be the killer.
‘Preparing him for when he got caught,’ Garcia cut in.
Hunter bit his bottom lip and nodded.
‘But why not tell him about the real Crucifix Killer’s carvings to the back of the neck.’
‘Because no one knew about it except the real killer and a handful of people that were working the case. Telling Mike Farloe about the real symbol would’ve made him instantly suspicious. Mike was fucked up, not stupid.’
‘Meaning he would’ve thought the person telling him about it was the real killer?’
‘Possible but not probable. Mike would’ve thought the guy was full of shit.’
‘Why?’
‘How do you think Mike got to know about the Crucifix Killer in the first place?’
‘Through the papers and the press.’
‘Exactly. Mike probably read and watched everything about the Crucifix Killer the media threw at him. And he believed every word of it. People are very impressionable. Telling Mike that what he read and believed was a load of crap would’ve pushed him away, not gain his confidence. Who do you think your normal street man would believe, the papers and TV or a complete stranger?’
Garcia thought about it for a moment. ‘You’ve got a point.’
Hunter nodded. ‘The killer knew what he needed to do to gain Mike’s confidence.’
‘Do you think the killer was counting on Mike confessing?’
‘Maybe, I’m not sure.’
‘He had nothing to lose,’ Garcia concluded, but still looked bothered by something. ‘But why?’
Hunter threw him an alarmed look. ‘Have you been listening to what I’ve said? I’ve just explained to you why.’
‘No, why frame Mike?’
Hunter paused and stared at his cup of coffee. ‘That was about to be my next question. What are the reasons for framing somebody?’
‘Revenge?’
‘Not in real life.’
‘Huh?’
‘Framing someone for revenge only happens in Hollywood movies. In real life people skip through all the bullshit, go directly to the source and pop them a head hole. Why go through all the trouble of planning a frame? Plus Mike died by lethal injection, not a lot of suffering. If our killer wanted him to suffer, he would’ve taken care of Mike himself.’
Garcia nodded in agreement. ‘That’s true.’
‘So why else would you frame someone?’
‘Maybe he wanted the police investigation to end.’
‘Possible.’
‘Perhaps his initial intention was to commit only seven murders.’ Garcia turned to pour himself a glass of water. ‘After the killer achieved what he set out to achieve, why keep the investigation open and risk some cop bumping into some evidence that could lead to him a few years down the line? Frame somebody, the case gets closed and he’s scot-free.’
‘So now the killer changed his mind and is back to commit another seven?’
Garcia cocked an eyebrow. ‘He could be.’
‘I don’t buy that. This killer had an agenda set from the word go and I’m sure he’s sticking to it. Whenever he’s finished doing what he’s set out to do, if we haven’t caught up with him by then, he’ll disappear and we’ll never hear from him again.’ Hunter’s voice sounded somber.
‘When Mike was arrested, did you have another suspect, someone you were investigating?’ Garcia said, breaking the silence.
Hunter shook his head.
‘You weren’t getting closer to anyone or anything?’
‘I’ve told you this before, we had nothing, no suspects, no leads – but I know what you’re getting at. If we were getting closer to someone, especially if we were getting closer to the right someone, framing Mike would’ve thrown us off course.’
‘Uh-huh! It would’ve put a stop to the investigation. Why carry on investigating when you have a suspect with such overwhelming incriminating evidence?’
‘Well, we didn’t have any suspects.’
‘But the killer didn’t know that. Unless he had some inside information from the police.’
‘Very few people had that information and they’re all trustworthy.’
‘OK, so maybe you did dig into something that hit pretty close to home with the killer.’
A muscle flexed on Hunter’s jaw. ‘We weren’t digging anything. The only thing we had was seven victims and a lot of frustration,’ Hunter said, staring out the window, his gaze distant. ‘But we’ll go though the files again . . . two months prior to Mike’s arrest. Let’s check what we had then.’
‘There’s one more possibility,’ Garcia said, flipping through some papers on his desk.
‘And what’s that?’
‘How long between Mike Farloe’s arrest and the first victim this time around?’
‘About a year and a half?’
‘What if the killer framed Mike because he knew he’d be out of action for a certain amount of time? Like if the killer had been in prison for some other minor charge.’
Hunter sat back on his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘The problem here is that he had to know in advance he’d be out of action for so long. Framing someone takes time and as we’ve said before, he had to find the right person first. You don’t get that much warning before being arrested. But . . .’ Hunter shook his right index finger in Garcia’s direction.
‘What?’
‘An operation,’ Hunter said cocking both eyebrows. ‘The killer could’ve had some sort of operation scheduled. He would’ve known that well in advance.’
‘But the killer was out of action for over a year. What sort of operation puts you on the sidelines for that long?’
‘That’s easy. Back operation, hip operation, any operation that would require the patient to go through physiotherapy to regain movement and strength. Our killer needs all his strength to commit these murders. He wouldn’t have struck again if he wasn’t one hundred percent fit. We’d better make a list of hospitals and physiotherapy clinics.’
Garcia was alr
eady typing his first search into his keyboard.
Forty-Nine
They spent the rest of the day digging into Mike Farloe’s life. His criminal record was long, but not vicious: convictions for indecent exposure, non-violent sexual assault and pedophilia. He was a scumbag, Hunter thought, but not a violent scumbag. In his last spell in prison he found God and upon his release he started wandering the streets preaching the gospel to those who’d listen and those who wouldn’t.
Mike’s medical records showed nothing out of the ordinary. A few treatments for venereal disease and broken bones from street beatings but that was all. He had no psychological history and nothing stood out. They concluded the killer couldn’t have picked Mike based on his medical or criminal record. They were still looking into any religious cults that Mike might’ve been involved with, but by eleven-thirty in the evening they still hadn’t come up with anything.
Garcia quickly checked his watch as he parked his car in front of his apartment building. ‘Past midnight once again.’ In the past two weeks not once had he managed to get home before the early hours of the morning. He knew there was nothing he could do. That’s what the job demanded and he was certainly prepared to give it. The same couldn’t be said about Anna.
He sat in the darkness of the parking lot for a while. From his car he stared at the window of his first-floor apartment. The lights were still on in his living room. Anna was still awake.
He’d told her not to worry, that the case they’d been working on was a complex one and he had to put a lot of extra hours into it, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. He knew she’d rather he’d been a lawyer or a doctor; anything really but a Homicide detective in Los Angeles.
He slowly made his way past the other cars on the lot, to the building and up to his apartment. Even though he was sure Anna wouldn’t be asleep, he opened his front door as carefully as he could. Anna was lying on the blue fabric sofa that faced the TV set on the east wall. She was wearing a thin, white nightgown and her hair was flattened on one side. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them as Garcia took his first steps into the apartment.
