The Logan Files - Pain Center: The Logan Files

by Marshall Huffman

  “Works for me,” Miles said.

  The rest agreed.

  “Anyone want to go for a beer? I got twenty bucks to buy the first round with.”

  “Tell them how you bilked it out of a nice old lady.”

  “Hey, you want a beer or not.”

  “Count me in, Sorenson said.”

  “Me too,” Carson and Harold added.

  “Logan?” Miles asked.

  “Not for me. I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Gotcha. See you tomorrow. Ready guys?”

  They all filed out and Logan followed. He headed back to the hotel where he hoped Carrie was waiting.

  * * *

  When he got back to the hotel, Carrie wasn’t in the room. He was both glad and disappointed at the same time. He took a shower and turned on the television. He skipped past the news and went to the History Channel. At least they wouldn’t be talking about the latest murder.

  Instead they were talking about the murder of Caesar. Logan just shook his head. We have been murdering each other from the beginning of time starting with Cain and Able. Superior beings? What the hell good is having brains if we don’t use them?

  He heard the door open and Carrie came in the room with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses. She had a bag in the crook of one finger.

  “Oh shoot. I wanted to get here before you. I didn’t think you would be finished so soon,” she said, setting everything down and coming around to give Logan a kiss. Her lips were soft and warm but her nose was cold.

  “You must be healthy,” he said.

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Your nose is cold.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked.

  “Well, when a dog’s nose is cold it means it’s healthy,” he quipped.

  “Wow, you are really romantic. Here I bring dinner and champagne and you bring wisecracks,” she said, kicking off her shoes and laying her coat over the couch.

  “Come here, I’ll make it up to you,” Logan said.

  “No. You come over here,” she said, dropping down on the couch. He did as he was told.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The next morning Logan sent the team members on their way to check out the stores in the area that sold saws. They were all to meet back at noon. He went to work looking into the past of Jerome Hanson. He was surprised to find very little on him. His background was pretty clean. He had gotten a couple of tickets but no arrests. The write up of the incident at The Cave was included but he was cleared of any involvement. On paper he looked clean but something bothered Logan. He was sure Hanson had lied about knowing Donna Landers, but why? His phone rang while he was cogitating on the motive for lying.

  “Logan.”

  “Commissioner Johnson’s office,” a secretary said.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “The Commissioner would like to see you in his office as quickly as possible. He said to bring everything you have on the current case you are assigned to. Captain Dixon is already in with the Commissioner. How long should I tell him you will be?”

  “Twenty minutes I guess. I have to get everything together,” Logan said.

  “He asked that you please hurry. He has a very tight schedule today.”

  “I’ll do the best I can,” Logan said and hung up.

  This was the last thing he needed, wasting his time in a pointless meeting. He could just as well have told him what the progress was over the phone but now he would waste the rest of the morning. He gathered up the information that they had and headed to the courthouse. At least he was shown in immediately instead of cooling his heels waiting for his majesty to summon him into the throne room.

  “Thanks for coming Logan. The Captain and I have been discussing the progress on this case. We now have three murders and my ass is getting shot full of arrows. I need to tell the people something. The news reports are killing us every night. They make us sound like the murder capital of the world. I want to know what we have done and what your plan is,” he said, tapping his pen on his desk blotter.

  Logan took a deep breath before saying anything.

  “Mind if I have a seat?”

  “Sorry. Of course be seated.”

  “Thank you. Commissioner, I want to be as up front with you as I can. The fact is that we have very little to go on so far. Our victims have been discovered during the recent snow storms which covered up any physical evidence. We have recovered what we believe to be pertinent footprints at the latest site but that is just speculation and does little good without someone to trace them to. We have tried to get a line on the Styrofoam peanuts we found inside all three victims but they are available in hundreds of locations. I have the team out checking on medical supply stores that sell autopsy saws but again, it may not turn up anything. It could have been stolen from a hospital. We have no DNA, no description of the perpetrator, and no one has come forward on the tip line. We have increased the reward to twenty-five thousand but nothing so far.”

  “You don’t have anything useful do you?”

  “No.”

  “The Captain and I are in agreement that we need to bring in someone else.”

  “Who?” Logan asked sitting up straight. The last thing he wanted was another person poking around.

  “We would like your input on that. We are thinking of a criminal profiler or perhaps the FBI,” he said, turning his pen from end to end as he spoke.

  Logan glanced at the Captain but he was stone-faced. There was no way they were in agreement. He knew that the Captain felt the same way he did, keep it in-house.

  “I see. Arguing against such a move would be pointless, I suppose,” Logan replied.

  “Heavens no. That’s why we called you here. I value your input as well as the Captain’s,” he said, smiling briefly.

  “Then I can speak freely?” Logan asked.

  “Certainly, within reason.”

  “I see. Commissioner, you have known me for how long? Ten or twelve years now, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You have decorated me a dozen or so times.”

  “More I suspect. What does this have to do with the current situation?”

  “Have I ever once asked for outside help? You have called me in on some pretty important cases and I have always come through for you in the past haven’t I?” Logan asked.

  “Detective Logan this time is different.”

  “Sir...”

  “Let me finish. This time is different because we have every major news service beating a path to my office. CNN, CSBN, MSBN, not to mention every major newspaper in the country. This isn’t about your ability. You know I think you are the finest detective in this or any other city. The simple truth is that we need to show that we are doing everything within our power to find this guy and get him behind bars. This isn’t about Detective John Logan,” He said.

  “Alright Commissioner, I believe you but no psychic stuff. I find that offensive. That’s something the tabloids like to profess as scientific but it’s a crock,” Logan said sitting back in his chair again.

  “Fine. Then we bring in a profiler or the FBI like I said. Which is it going to be?”

  “Profiler. But before you do, may I borrow your pen for a moment?” Logan asked.

  “Certainly,” the Commissioner said, looking puzzled.

  Logan took out his always present notebook and scribbled several lines on one of the pages. When he was finished he handed the pen and paper to the Commissioner.

  “This is what the profiler will tell you,” Logan said.

  The Commissioner looked down at the page.

  Male

  Caucasian

  Age 35 – 45

  Average or slightly smaller in statute

  No criminal history or very minor infractions

  A loner

  Probably from a broken home

  Abusive father, non-caring mother

  Dislikes authority and trusts no one />
  Extremely adept at lying and manipulation

  This is what you think he is going to say?” the Commissioner asked, folding it in half.

  “Pretty much. Maybe not in those exact words but it will be that general. That could be just about anyone in the city including half the members of the taskforce.”

  “You may be right but I’m still going to call one in. We will make a show of having him help us develop the profile of our killer. The press will run with it and give us some breathing room.”

  “Then, if it is alright with you sir, I would like to get back to work,” Logan said, standing up.

  “Please do and thank you for understanding.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Logan sat on the corner of Myler’s desk while Miles leaned against a bookcase in the corner.

  “How did you get word of this?” Logan asked.

  “Her ex-husband. Apparently he has been looking for her for some time. Eventually he checked the morgue and sure enough, her description matched Jane Doe’s,” Myler told them.

  “That seems a little thin to me,” Logan said.

  “I’ve seen thinner and so have you. Eventually, when all other avenues are exhausted, they start to suspect the worst.”

  “I suppose but I am going to want to talk to him after he makes the ID,” Logan said.

  Myler just shrugged.

  “When is he due?” Miles asked.

  “Anytime now. He is driving in from Brownsburg. I guess it snowed on the west side last night,” Myler said.

  “Just an inch or so,” Logan said.

  “Thank you so much for that report, Meteorologist Logan,” Myler said.

  “What’s the guy’s name?”

  “Belker,” Myler said straight-faced.

  “First name, dork.”

  “Dork? No. It’s Emilio. Emilio Belker,” Myler replied.

  Logan was just about to say something when a scraggly looking guy opened the door. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, he had tattoos all over his arms, and his clothes look like they hadn’t been washed in a month.

  “Uh, am I in the right place?” he asked.

  “It sure looks like it,” Miles muttered.

  “This is the city morgue, right?”

  “Please, don’t pay any attention to these guys. They’re salesmen and you know how they are,” Myler said. “You must be Mr. Belker,” Myler said coming around from his desk.

  He shook Belker’s hand, “You said your ex-wife was named Amy.”

  “Yeah. Last I heard she was still using my name.”

  “Alright Mr. Belker. We don’t know for sure the woman we have listed as Jane Doe is your ex-wife but from your description it’s a pretty good match. Her body has already been disposed of because of the length of time she has been here. We did take pictures and have a physical description of all the details of her body. Hopefully that will be sufficient,” Myler told him.

  “Sure. We were married three years. Well, almost three. I would know Amy anyplace.”

  “Let’s hope your right. Her head was shaved so it may not be so easy to recognize her.”

  “If it’s her, I will,” he said confidently.

  Logan was just watching the exchange without comment.

  “Are you ready?” Myler asked, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “Sure, let’s get it over with.”

  Myler opened a folder and turned over several 8 x 10 black and white photos of the dead Jane Doe.

  His eyes widened immediately, “Oh Christ. What happened to her?”

  “Is this Amy Belker?”

  “Yeah, that’s Amy. No doubt about it. Who did this to her?” he asked, looking at the pictures that showed the bruises and marks on her body.

  “We don’t know yet,” Logan said, speaking up for the first time.

  “I thought you were a salesman.”

  “Dr. Myler’s morgue humor. I’m Detective Logan and this is Detective Miles,” he said, nodding to where Miles was leaning.

  “Do you know who did this?”

  “We are working on it. When was the last time you saw Amy?”

  “What? Uh, hell I don’t know. Last November, I think. My mom wanted her to come to Thanksgiving dinner. She still thinks the world of Amy.”

  “You still that close to your ex?”

  “We aren’t fighting if that’s what you mean. Look, I wanted to have kids and she didn’t. We couldn’t find a middle ground in a situation like that and we divorced. Neither one of us was pissed off at the other one. She still exchanges calls with my mom from time to time,” Belker replied.

  “Why were you trying to get in touch with her now?” Miles asked.

  “My mom said she had been trying to reach her. She started to get worried so she asked me to go to her place and find out if she was okay,” he said.

  “And what did you find?”

  “A stack of mail in the mailbox and her car in the garage but she wasn’t home. I called a half dozen times in case she was asleep. I went to her work and found out she hadn’t been in and they had replaced her. I thought maybe she had found a guy and moved in but when I went back to her place I looked in the window. Her apartment is on the ground floor. Dishes were still on the table and her MP3 player was sticking out of her jacket on the back of the chair. One thing about Amy, she never went anyplace without her music,” he said.

  “What is the address where she resided?” Logan asked.

  “1031 North Webster. Gladstone Apartments. 3A”

  “Where did she work?”

  “The Roadhouse Bar and Grill on Riverside.

  “What about friends, male or female?”

  “I don’t really know any of them. I gather from the way my mom talked that she was seeing someone but I don’t have a clue who it was.”

  “You never wanted to know?” Miles.

  “No. Why should I?”

  “Natural curiosity. Most guys want to know who is sniffing around their territory.”

  “We were divorced. It isn’t my territory any longer,” Belker said, becoming slightly agitated.

  “I would want to know,” Miles said.

  “Good for you. I don’t.”

  “Alright for now Mr. Belker. I will need your address and phone number before you take off,” Logan said.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Did you happen to go into her house?” Miles asked.

  “No. I just looked in the window. I did try the door. It was locked.”

  “Good. Have you ever been in the house?”

  “No. She moved there after we split. I’ve never set foot in the place,” he said.

  “So we won’t find your fingerprints inside, just on the doorknob?” Miles pressed.

  “I said I didn’t go in,” Belker said angrily.

  “Easy Mr. Belker. He just wants to make sure we are all clear about something as important as that. People have forgotten little details and it comes home to bite them on the butt sometimes,” Logan said soothingly.

  “Okay. I understand,” he said calmly.

  “Thank you for coming in. We really appreciate and this will help us to locate whoever did this,” Logan said.

  “One thing. You said they had disposed of the body. Where?”

  “Pine Crest Cemetery. The city has an area for unidentified bodies. We bury them in a temporary grave until they need to be exhumed or are identified. We can turn the body over to you if you like,” Myler said.

  “I’ll get back to you on that if I can,” he said.

  “No problem. Take your time. We have no set limit on how long we intern a body,” Myler said.

  “Thank you. Here is my address and phone,” he said, handing it to Logan.

  “Sorry for your loss,” Logan said.

  “Thanks.

  When Belker had left the office Miles asked, “What is it about me that makes people get so uptight?”

  “The charming way you ask your questions. You’re as subtl
e as a Mack truck,” Logan replied.

  “I don’t get it. I ask the same questions any cop would ask. When did you last see the victim? Did you go inside? Routine questions ask by thousands of cops around the world,” Miles said exasperated.

  “I thought you said he was smart.” Myler said.

  “What?” Miles asked.

  “The questions are all valid, all of them. But, you have to pick your time and how you ask them,” Logan said.

  “Such as?”

  “Okay. You could have said something like, have either you or your mom talked to or seen Donna lately?”

  “That’s practically the same thing.”

  “But it isn’t the same thing. It’s subtle. You still get the information but you come across as concerned.”

  Miles just shrugged.

  “Or you could have said, is there any chance you could have left any prints inside? We want to let the CSI boys know so they don’t waste a lot of time,” Myler said.

  Miles shrugged again, “I don’t see that as being all that much better.”

  “I take back what I said about him being real smart,” Logan said to Myler.

  “You darn well should,” Myler replied.

  “That’s real nice guys,” Miles said sulking.

  * * *

  Logan and Miles drove back to the station after having lunch at one of Logan’s favorite Mexican restaurants.

  “That was really good,” Miles said, burping.

  “You’re not going to find anything better in this town,” Logan said, pulling the car into the lot.

  Sorenson met them as they came up the stairs.

  “Myler just called to say he got a hit on our John Doe. His name is Bobby Varner. He has a rap sheet that will be coming through in a few minutes. From what I gather, it’s just little shit, mostly from a long time ago.”

  “I’ll be damned. Yesterday we had two nameless victims and now we know both of their names. Maybe we are going to get a break at last,” Logan said.

  “Let me know when his sheet gets here. I want to bring the Captain up to speed.”

  “You want me to bring it to you?”

  “Yeah, but knock first. He has this thing about people knocking.”