“I had a feeling they would be.”
“So, was there a note?” Justin prodded him.
“You know I can’t release details just yet. I just got here. I need to get more details and process things before we release anything to the press.”
“I figured you’d say that. But if I get a call from my source, you know I’ll print it.”
“Yep. But you also promised to call me right after you get a call and before you print.”
“I did, and I will. Are you still running a trace on my phone?”
“We are.”
Jake would have loved to tell Justin more, but he knew it wouldn’t help and could possibly create more problems. If he could talk, he would have said he was stymied. The killers were good. Too good. They only left clues they wanted the police to have, and those were fewer than he would like. They were all plants. Jake was sure of that. The blonde hair was a wig that could have come from any cheap wig sold at dozens of stores. The Trazadone was commonly used for depression and mild sleep disorders. He guessed it was in hundreds, if not thousands, of homes. The notes were no help, either. Commercially-available paper printed on a cheap, mass-produced printer. No prints on the notes and no prints at any of the crime scenes. All the victims had one thing in common, though: They all had questionable business histories, and now, according to Justin, they had all been on the show. And none of the victims’ customers overlapped.
They talked for a few more minutes, as Stein reiterated the details he was willing to share but chose not to give the actual wording in the notes. He still worried about copycats and false confessions increasing his workload.
Justin was frustrated that Stein wouldn’t give him more but understood the reasoning and took it in stride. Curious about the change in the Revengers’ M.O., Justin asked Stein about what he thought about why the Revengers had struck twice in one night, and if it was indicative of something.
“No comment.” Stein had been wondering the same thing. Why two in one night? Were they unhappy with the level of publicity? Were they trying to increase the fear level? He had no answers and no clues as to who they were or what their true motive was. His captain and his superiors were expressing displeasure in the lack of progress on the case. No one wanted to hear that the Revengers had pulled off the perfect murders. As far as the captain was concerned, that concept didn’t exist, and it was up to Stein to prove it. The threat of bringing in another homicide detective didn’t need verbalizing; Stein could feel it.
Chapter Thirteen
“Journalism is organized gossip.”
—Edward Eggleston
Justin left the burned-out Childs’ home, and, instead of going back to the Tribune, he decided to work on his story from home. He had a new bottle of cheap tequila, and some pot that he was sure would help with his creative process.
He turned on the TV and watched the news with the sound off. They were alternating between showing pictures of the Childs’ home and the Maley home with shots from Chatfield Lake. The commentator was rambling on with graphics in the background, illustrating the various crimes attributed to the Revengers. When they flashed the face of Bob Jackson and the front of the radio station for the Consumer Champion, Justin slammed down his first shot of tequila and followed it with a hit off a joint. He had been the first to really make the connection, but now, all the town was abuzz with various theories.
Two shots later, and Justin still had nothing to write that he thought would be of interest to anyone. He thought of how Jackson must be taking this, as he took a huge drag on the joint. His lungs objected, and he went into a coughing fit. When his eyes finally cleared, he changed channels and wasn’t surprised to see the same thing playing on another channel. Not only were all the news channels playing up the connection theories between the show and the Revengers, but the Internet was even worse. There was every conceivable iteration from Jackson being the killer to the government running a secret cabal to eliminate contractors who were creating problems.
The Revengers had the city wrapped in fear, which is what Justin thought they wanted. Would they bother to call him again? Did they even need him anymore?
He looked over at his cell phone, half-expecting it to ring, and yet, not sure if he wanted to hear from the Revengers again. As a writer, having an inside source was exciting, but the murders were gruesome, and this wasn’t what his role should be. It was a story that, if handled correctly, could catapult his career, but he was starting to think that the caller wasn’t just some inside source at the police department, and was, rather, one of the killers themselves. How else could they have the details they had? And what possible motive would a cop have for releasing the information?
The pot was clouding his brain, and he kept going over the same facts over and over again with no new revelations. Pot-induced paranoia had now convinced him that Jackson was one of the Revengers, and that Jackson was also his anonymous caller. It made perfect sense. The Consumer Champion had gone off the deep end. He was dissatisfied with the effect his show had on the scumbags of Denver, and he had to take matters to a higher level. Justin, when sober, was sure it was his vivid imagination going wild, but now, each dot was being connected, and it fit that Jackson was a Revenger. He knew all the people to punish, and he knew that using the press would further his goal of ridding the city of undesirables. Since Justin had first made the connection between the show and the murders, he had been listening to the show and keeping a list of potential victims. Now, he looked at the list and wondered which one would be next. He could hear Jackson in his head, screaming and yelling at people, and he had a vision of Jackson hitting one of the victims over the head with a hammer. He shuddered.
Just as he had come to the conclusion that Jackson was a Revenger, he reconsidered. Yes, Jackson was combative and bombastic on the air, but when Justin had met him, he hadn’t seemed like a killer. Maybe the on-air personality was an act? One thing seemed certain: Jackson seemed like someone who was genuinely dedicated to helping people. He had a history of doing community service and charity work in Denver. A background check had shown no criminal record of any kind. Most everyone whom Justin had interviewed described Jackson as a good friend and easily likeable. And if he was one of the killers, why target his own audience and then call the press to publicize it? Wouldn’t he realize that would backfire and turn people against him and his show? He didn’t seem like the type to misread the effect that might have. Maybe Jackson was delusional, and things didn’t need to make sense. He might even be schizophrenic with diverse personalities who each didn’t know the other existed.
Damn, he thought. Between the tequila and the pot, he was stoned and not thinking straight. Normally, he was a guy with a vivid imagination, but he’d never thought he was delusional. He didn’t buy all the conspiracy theories running wild on the net, and now, he doubted his first instinct of Jackson being involved. But what should he do next, if anything? Visions of Mr. Piper flashed across his mind, telling him to get off his ass and do some real reporting. He crushed out the joint and put the lid on the tequila bottle. A real reporter would meet with Jackson again and flush out the story.
****
Across town, Detectives Stein and Baird were discussing the case. Baird was convinced that there was more than a casual connection between Jackson and the Revengers. As far as he was concerned, it was not a coincidence that all the victims were subjects of Jackson’s ire. In fact, he said, he had been listening to the Consumer Champion with some regularity, ever since Brian Lane had told them about the connection to his brother. And besides, according to one of his teachers at the police academy, one should distrust accepting coincidence when investigating a case. He suspected Jackson, and he wasn’t shy about sharing that belief with Stein. If Stein would listen to Jackson on the air, he would hear a guy who made it a point to harass and degrade contractors. Jackson was an unstable fanatic with a huge ego, willing to punish anyone who didn’t cooperate with him. And wasn’t it odd that th
e Revengers had only attacked the subjects of Jackson’s tirades?
Stein had to give the rookie some credit. It was a fascinating theory, and clearly well thought out. Up until the murders had started, he had been unfamiliar with the show, and, since he hadn’t been a listener, he was surprised to learn from both the news accounts and Baird that each and every victim had been discussed on the show. Could he have been wrong in thinking that the connection was that all the consumers had been ripped by the same victims? That theory was debunked when they couldn’t find any two customers who had been ripped off by the same murder victim. It gave more credibility to Baird’s theory, but Stein was still not convinced it was Jackson. Still, he allowed him to continue laying it out.
“Jake, his history of abusing people on air is well-known. He’s got the demeanor of an unhinged man. A frustrated do-gooder, who, over the years, didn’t always get what he wanted within the system. And his ego is as big as a mountain. When he doesn’t get his way, he flies into a rage and screams and yells. I don’t think the guy tolerates failure well. If he can’t take them down on his show, he makes them disappear.” Baird was up, pacing around the room and swinging his arms, getting more and more worked up. “I think he’s unhinged. He snapped, and now, he created this team of vigilante killers, and he’s trying to make it sound like they are protecting the public.”
“Why not just kill his victims? Why all the bizarre methods?” asked Stein, curious to hear more of Baird’s theory.
“Just shows how demented he is. The more bizarre and brutal the murders are, the more effective his plan is. I mean, look at the publicity he’s getting. He’s got everyone talking about him and the Revengers. People are on edge.”
“People are certainly on edge,” admitted Stein.
Baird wasn’t the only one in town who suspected that Jackson had more than an indirect connection to the murders, but Stein still had his doubts and wasn’t ready to arrest Jackson with almost no evidence.
“I’ll think about it some more,” said Stein. “For now, keep digging. I want you looking at the customer list of all the victims. I still think there is something there that we are missing. I’m going to meet with Bob alone. I don’t want you there, creating an adversarial situation.”
Stein was worried that Baird’s insistence of Jackson’s guilt would put Jackson on his guard and probably get him lawyering up. Before that happened, Stein wanted to see what Jackson had for alibis on the recent murders and gauge his reaction to all the murders being linked to his show.
****
Justin left his apartment and grabbed a cab to take him to his meeting with Jackson and George. Somehow, Justin had convinced Jackson that the meeting was in his best interest, and they should meet at a local bar, but now that he was on his way to the meeting, and the effects of the pot and tequila were wearing off, he had some misgivings. He wanted to believe that Jackson was innocent, but in the back of his mind, he still suspected him. And if his instinct was correct, and Jackson was one of the Revengers, then Justin was out of his mind. Not a brave man by nature, Justin was honorable, and he wanted to talk face-to-face with Jackson and present him with the facts. What could possibly go wrong? They were meeting in a public place, and he decided that if he was ever going to be the writer he imagined he could be, then he would have to take risks at some point. At least, that’s what he told himself while he sat in the back of the cab as it pulled up in front of the meeting place.
He entered tentatively and immediately spotted Jackson and George, sitting in a booth toward the back.
“Thanks for seeing me, guys. I just have a few questions for you.”
“This isn’t going to be a hit job, is it?” asked Jackson.
“Not my intention. I’m just trying to be fair,” said Justin as he sat down. “Do you mind if I record the conversation?” he asked as he took out a small pocket recorder.
“Go ahead. So, what’s on your mind, Justin?” asked Jackson.
“Did you see the news yet?”
“We know about the latest murders, and we’ve seen your articles.”
“I just came from the crime scenes of the two most recent murders.”
“You want to know what we know? I’ll tell you. Nothing. We aren’t involved. I know that you guys are trying to make a connection, but we had nothing to do with the murders,” said George with a hint of smoldering emotion.
Justin started to worry that this was a bad idea. Of course, they would deny any involvement in the murders. They would say that regardless of the truth. Was he expecting them to admit they were the vigilante killers? But he pressed on.
“Bob, George, I need to ask if you recognized the names of the most recent victims?”
They looked at each other with a look of resignation, pausing briefly.
Jackson spoke up. “Yes, Justin, we did. We aren’t stupid. We remembered talking about them on recent shows.”
“All the victims,” added George. “We can’t explain it any better than you can, so don’t even bother to ask.”
“I have to ask. It’s my job.”
“To participate in idle speculation?”
“Look, people are starting to talk like you guys are involved in the murders.”
“You believe all the crap on the Internet about us? That’s all just bullshit,” Jackson spat out.
“But you can see why people are saying it. Can’t you?”
George remained calm. “We can’t control what people say—or think, for that matter—but I can tell you we aren’t the killers, and we aren’t involved in some government conspiracy.”
“Okay. I actually believe you. But how do you explain that the murderers are only killing people from your show? Who’s doing this and why?”
“You want us to speculate?” asked Jackson. “Between the Internet and the radio talk shows, I think every possible theory has been covered.”
“Okay. Let’s say that you aren’t involved,” proffered Justin, but he was interrupted by George.
“We aren’t.”
“Right,” Justin continued. “It does appear that they are using your show to identify victims. Why your show?”
“Because it’s easy?” asked Jackson.
“Exactly. You are doing their work for them.”
“But why are they hell-bent on killing all these people?” asked George.
“Obviously, I’m not sure, but let me throw out a couple of ideas. I think the police think it might be a customer who was fed up and decided to kill his tormentor.”
“Why all of them?”
“Let’s say the killers wanted to kill one person, but by killing so many, they muddy the waters, making it hard to pinpoint them.”
“Is that what the police think?” asked George.
“It is one theory that came up and makes sense. But here’s another one. Let’s say the killers are actually trying to make you guys look bad. They kill your audience, and it ruins your show. It could just as easily be one of your competitors.”
“Geez, Justin, what the fuck are you smoking?” said Jackson. “That is the most outrageous theory I’ve heard yet.”
Justin looked at Jackson and turned red. He didn’t want to tell them that just an hour ago, he’d been high as a kite. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders.
Jackson ran his hand through his hair. “And if that’s true, what are we supposed to do?”
“Let’s go through each theory and see how plausible it is. Let’s say it is one of your callers who was ripped off by one of these contractors, and they went out to get revenge. The rage it would take to get to this would be huge. Wouldn’t it be likely that they flew off on the air while talking to you?”
“Lots of people get riled up talking about how they were ripped off. I doubt we would be able to remember anyone in particular.”
“Do you keep logs?”
“We have recordings of each show, but it would take weeks to go through all of the ones from the past year or so. And besides, what
if the person behind all this never actually called in?” said Jackson.
Justin frowned. “Crap.”
“And if you think it’s a competitor, how in the world would we figure that out?”
“Yeah, good point. I’m just trying to help. I need to write a story today, and I’m just trying to get another angle. I’m getting a ton of pressure from my boss to stay on top of this story. Mostly because the first murder hit pretty close to home.”
“Write what you want, Justin. We aren’t psychologists. If someone out there is doing this and using our show to select victims… well, we are as clueless as anyone. You want to listen to old show recordings and psychoanalyze every caller? You go ahead. We’ll set you up in a room with months or years of shows,” offered George.
Justin thought that sounded like a daunting task, and probably something the police should do.
“I was just hoping that maybe you remembered one of your callers saying something that might suggest a violent solution.”
“We don’t,” said Jackson. “If we did, we would have told the police. I don’t think we really have anything for you, Justin. We are alarmed and saddened by these murders. If someone is using our show to find potential victims, then we wholeheartedly condemn their actions. But we just don’t know how we can help you with your article—or, for that matter, how we can help the police capture the killers. I think the meeting is over.” He began to stand up.
“Come on, guys,” pleaded Justin. “There is a connection. That, you can’t deny. The Revengers are using your show. These are some bad people. Have the police shared with you how each victim met their fate?”
“We’ve been reading the news,” answered George.
“Then you know these guys are sadistic. They’re fanatics, and I think that not only are they sending a message to other contractors, but they also enjoy what they are doing.”
All In A Day's Work Page 14
