The Logan Files - Pain Center: The Logan Files

by Marshall Huffman

  “Will do.”

  Logan knocked on Dixon’s office door and opened it.

  “What?”

  “Got some good news about the murders,” Logan said, walking in and taking a seat.

  “It’s about damn time. The Commissioner has called twice already today. He wants a press conference called to introduce the profiler he brought in from Michigan,” the Captain said.

  “When?”

  “This afternoon. 1:00 p.m. in City Hall.”

  “Inside this time?”

  “Too damn cold to do it outside I guess.”

  “This may work out to our advantage.”

  “Now don’t you do something to embarrass the Commissioner. The last thing I need is to have my butt chewed on some more. It’s all I can do to sit down after the last ass chewing.”

  “I thought you looked a little contrite,” Logan replied.

  “My ego was damaged if that’s what you mean. I don’t want a repeat performance.”

  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t ruffle his feathers.”

  “Good.”

  “Too much,” Logan added.

  “Logan. I mean it.”

  “I know. I was just messing with you.

  “Okay, what have you got?”

  “We now know the names of the two victims. The guy, Bobby Varner, has a rap sheet that they are faxing over. This should give us some solid leads. It’s the first thing we have had a break on.”

  “Great. I just hope you can find the common thread. The case is getting cold. The only place that it’s still hot is with the media. Did you see the NPN? Brain Eater stalks pray in Indianapolis. They have a picture of some guy eating brains off a plate. What crap,” Dixon said.

  “People eat it up,” Logan replied.

  “Idiots eat it up. Anyone with an I.Q. above a cabbage knows that stuff is pure unadulterated crap.”

  “Wow. How do you really feel?” Logan quipped.

  “Anyway, brief me with any new developments before the news conference,” Captain Dixon said.

  “Do they want the whole team there?”

  “Oh, hell yes. We need to waste a whole bunch of time. The city has money to burn,” he said.

  “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Logan replied.

  When he returned to his desk they were all looking at the rap sheet for Bobby Varner.

  “It’s pretty anti-climactic. Shoplifting at age seventeen, one DUI, two assaults, nothing really worth following up on,” Sorenson said.

  “Alright. Run his Social Security number and find out where he was working. Maybe we can backtrack from there. Check Motor Vehicles too,” Logan said.

  “Carlson, check out this Roadhouse Bar and Grill. Who were Amy’s friends there, what they have to say about her. Was she dating, that stuff. You know the drill,” Logan said.

  “On my way,” he said, heading out.

  “Harold, see if The Cave has a website. If it does, see what it says and get anything you can.

  “I’m on it,” he replied.

  “Sorenson, I would like for you to dig up anything on Bobby Varner that you can find. He had to live some place, own a car, whatever. Get everything you can and start the search warrant process so we can sweep the place as soon as Miles and I get back,” Logan said.

  “Where are we going?” Miles asked.

  “We are going to a news conference and then getting a search warrant for Amy Belker’s apartment.”

  “News conference? Another one?”

  “Going to introduce our profiler. Big stuff,” Logan said. He had decided to only take Miles. He wasn’t going to waste the other detective’s time with just standing there while the Commissioner talked. This was their first chance at cracking this case and he wasn’t about to lose the initiative.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Commissioner looked at his watch and frowned. If Logan and Captain Dixon weren’t here in the next two minutes he decided he would start without them.

  He leaned over to the profiler and whispered, “We start in two minutes. You have everything ready?”

  It was the same question he had been asked at least three times before but he just shook his head and held up a paper. The Commissioner stood up and walked to the microphones and looked out.

  “Ladies and Gentleman of the media. I am going to get started. I know you have deadlines to make so without further ado, I would like to introduce Criminal Profiler, Bruce Benson. Mr. Benson is from Detroit, Michigan and has been involved in several high-profile cases. He has graciously agreed to help us with our current case.”

  The Commissioner turned to gesture to Benson to join him and he was surprised to see Captain Dixon, John Logan, and Brandon Miles standing behind him. He motioned for Benson to join him at the dais.

  “It is my pleasure to present Bruce Benson,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the media.

  An awkward silence followed before Benson finally decided to speak.

  “It is a pleasure to be here in Indianapolis and to work with such a fine police force. The Commissioner has asked me to lend any help I can to bring this perpetrator to justice and I will do my best to do just that. I have studied the files on the three murders and I have a preliminary profile. As we go along, we hope to be able to be more definitive and get a clear picture of who this person is. I know you all share in my desire to get this resolved as quickly as possible and bring this reign of terror to an end.”

  He unfolded a piece of paper and looked at it for a second before starting to read from it.

  “I believe the person we are seeking is a white male, in his late thirties or early forties. He is average in appearance and usually spends most of his time alone. He doesn’t like to interact with people. His method of operation suggests that he has a great deal of pent up anger, possibly at his parents. He also shows signs of contempt for authority, such as the police. He has virtually no regard for human life and views people as objects rather than beings. He is the type that can blend into a crowd and never be noticed unless he is angered. Last, he will continue to kill without remorse until he is finally caught. I hope to help see that happen. Now before you start asking me to repeat the profile, it will be available as a handout at the information desk. If anyone has any questions I would be more than happy to answer them if I can.”

  Instantly the reporters started yelling out questions. Logan just grinned. Benson would just start to answer one question and someone else would either cut in or not wait for the full answer. He was being overwhelmed. The Commissioner looked over at Logan and nodded his head toward the podium. At first Logan acted like he didn’t understand until the Commissioner motioned with his thumb to go help the man out. Logan nodded and walked to the dais and blew into the microphones making such a racket that eventually everyone stopped and either covered their ears or flinched.

  “Now boys and girls, you were at the last briefing and you know how this works. Unless IQ’s suddenly dropped between then and now I’m pretty sure you remember what I said about yelling out without being recognized. Mr. Benson hasn’t had a chance to answer one question fully. Please wait to be recognized before you ask your question and let him finish his answer,” Logan said.

  “Excuse me. I’m from CNN and I would like to know who you are and what makes you think you can dictate the terms of a news briefing?”

  “Well Mr. CNN, I dictate how they are run because I can. My name is Detective First Class John Logan. I am in charge of the taskforce. I know you were at the last briefing because I saw you there. I also know that you know who I am. I said it then and I’ll say it again. It will be done my way or the briefing comes to an end. We are doing this as a service to the media. It is not required by law. Does that answer your question Mr. CNN?”

  “I would like to hear what the Commissioner thinks about your answer?”

  The Commissioner looked at John and then the reporter. He was backed into a corner and he knew it.

  “I think Detective Loga
n is in charge of disseminating information in a timely fashion as a service. How he accomplishes that is strictly his call.”

  “So you are saying you don’t object to this Neanderthal approach?”

  “What I do object to is stupid questions like that,” the Commissioner said and walked away from the podium.

  Several reporters laughed. Everyone could see that the CNN reporter was livid but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Later perhaps, but not now.

  The rest of the question and answer session was a lot smoother and Benson thanked Logan for his assistance.

  “When we get back to the station, perhaps you would have some time for me?” Benson asked.

  “Oh yes. I would love to have a nice long chat with you about your profile.”

  “It’s just a preliminary one,” Benson corrected.

  “Yes, I understand that,” Logan replied.

  He wondered if the Commissioner still had the sheet of paper he had handed him in his office with the prediction of what the profiler would say. There wasn’t a nickel’s worth of difference between the two.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Logan looked over at Miles as he drove. They had obtained a search warrant and were headed to Amy Belker’s apartment. Logan studied him as he maneuvered in the traffic.

  “What?” Miles asked.

  “Nothing. Just wondering about you,” Logan said.

  “Like what?”

  “Just stuff.”

  “Oh, I see, stuff. Like?”

  “What made you decide to become a cop? Why you have been in three different precincts in the time you have been on the force? Why you don’t seem to have a life outside of the force? You know, stuff like that?”

  “You want to know my background? You think that will help you to understand what makes me tick?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Hell, I don’t even know what makes me tick,” Logan replied, chuckling.

  “But you want to poke around in my head.”

  “Maybe just a peek.”

  “Alright. I’m a cop because it was expected of me. My dad was a cop. His dad was a cop and his dad before him was a cop. From what I’ve been told, no male in my family has ever done anything else. My great grandfather was actually a member of Elliot Ness’s Untouchables. I saw some old pictures of him and Ness riding in a truck. It was pretty cool. We still have his old ID and badge.”

  “That is very cool. So you sort of became a cop by osmosis.”

  “Something like that. It’s all I knew growing up. Every family gathering would eventually end up a gabfest about one of my relatives’ ‘on the job’ adventures.”

  “And you got married at some point.”

  “Yep. Cops and marriage just don’t seem to work out very well. I think it’s a combination of things, the sleaze we deal with, the ridicules hours, the cynical demeanor we develop. Shit, the list goes on and on,” Miles said.

  “That what happened to you?”

  “I really don’t know. Six months ain’t much of an effort. The truth is, she thought she was too good to be a cop’s wife. I don’t know why she wanted to marry me in the first place. Not really.”

  “So you just gave up looking for the right girl?”

  “Nah. I have a couple of girls I like to spend time with but I’m not getting too close.”

  “So who do you share your dreams and desires with?”

  “A lady named Iris. She is one of the women I spend time with. She is a friend as well. We try to always be there for each other.”

  “That’s good. You need someone you can just be yourself with. No pretense.”

  “That would be Iris,”

  They drove in silence for a while before Miles said, “What about Captain Dixon? I haven’t been able to get a read on him yet.”

  “The Captain is A-Okay. He does everything in his power to protect his men. He has gone up against the Commissioner and even the Mayor when necessary. I’ll tell you one thing that you can take to the bank. You shoot straight with the Captain and he will always go to bat for you. You lie to him and you are on your own. I’ve seen a lot of Captains come and go and Dixon is the best I’ve ever served with. If you screw up, you be the first to beat a path to his door and tell him. No surprises is his number one rule. He doesn’t ever want to find out you did something wrong by way of the grapevine,” Logan said.

  “Thanks. Good to know. I think that’s it over there,” Miles said, pointing to an apartment building.”

  “Looks like,” Logan agreed.

  Miles bounced off the curb as the car slid on the slush and snow.

  “Nice park job,” Logan said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  “Thanks.”

  It took them several minutes to locate the office manager and obtain the key. Logan unlocked door and was staggered by the smell.

  “Whoa! Rotten food,” he said, entering slowly.

  “Man,” Miles said, putting his hand over his nose and mouth.

  The stench of rotting food permeated the house. Logan walked to the backdoor, opened it, and left it propped open. The kitchen was the worst. Two plates with rotting food on them were still on the table. The electricity had been turned off so everything in the refrigerator and freezer had spoiled. The sink was full of dirty dishes and the trashcan was overflowing.

  “Great housekeeper. Damn, this place reeks,” Miles replied.

  Logan was busy fiddling with the side window over the sink, trying to get it open. Final he was able to force it open. With both doors and the window opened it was at least tolerable.

  “You check the front room and bathroom. I’ll take the bedroom,” Logan said.

  “You just want to get in her underwear drawer,” Miles said.

  “And I thought I was being subtle,” Logan replied.

  He walked to the bedroom and did his usual visual search from the doorway. He slipped on his latex gloves before entering. He started with the bed, checking for body fluids, blood or anything out of the unusual. He went to the closet and looked through the clothes and shoes. On the top shelf he found a scrap book. The pictures were mostly from High School. Nothing of particular interest was found. He looked through each drawer of her dresser. He found the usual sweaters, under garments, pantyhose, and a box of pictures that appeared to be old, probably of her family.

  He did find one of her with an older woman that Logan suspected was Amy’s mother. Next was her computer, but there was no electricity so he tagged it for the CSI team to take. He sat down at the desk and started through the drawers. Again he came up empty handed. There was nothing to indicate what had happened to her. He would have them pull the phone records and tow the car in for inspection along with a complete dusting of the house. He didn’t really think much would turn up but stranger things had happened.

  Logan sighed and decided that CSI was just going to have to take about everything and go through them item by item. He decided to check on Miles’ progress but he stopped at the door. A pair of leather shorts was tossed in the corner. He picked them up and checked the two front pockets. A packet of matches from The Cave were in the right front pocket. He held it up and looked at it for several seconds. Was this the missing link? He took out his note pad and wrote a note to himself to check everything about Amy Belker’s extracurricular activities. Was she a member of The Cave too? That could work if they were partners and went as a couple. These were questions that needed answers and he was going to make damn sure they got answered.

  “How you doing?” Miles shouted.

  Logan jumped. He had been deep in thought.

  “I think I found something. Maybe it’s the link we have been missing,” he said.

  Miles came down the hall and Logan held up the match cover.

  “The Cave. Son of a gun. That’s the same thing you found in the desk of the first victim,” Miles said.

  “Actually the second victim, but yes, the same match cover.”

  “Excellent. Now we have the name
s and a link to the two women. If this Varner guy is involved in the Cave somehow, we are starting to put some of the pieces together,” Miles said excitedly.

  It was the first real excitement Logan had witnessed from him.

  “I’ll call in CSI and let them gather everything up. I want it all hauled back and gone over, including the car,” Logan said.

  “Cool. I just love it when a plan comes together,” he said.

  “Sounds like something from the A-Team,” Logan said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind. You’re too young.”

  Miles talked non-stop all the way back to the station. Logan considered a tranquilizer dart a few times.

  * * *

  JJ was zeroing in on his next pray. She was a stunning redhead who called herself Delia. He knew her real name was Erin Lowinski. He had noticed her the minute she came through the door. She had brought some wimpy guy with her. JJ had let her enter as a couple even though she made it clear that her ‘slave’ was only being allowed to accompany her on this one occasion. If she like the place well enough she would become a member. Two days later she had reappeared, but alone this time. She became a member.

  On her confidential information form that each member was required to fill out, she listed her occupation as a Dominatrix. Mistress Delia often brought a guest and took part in some of the performances from time to time. Her guest might be either male or female and it varied quite often although she brought men more often. She seemed to delight in punishing them more severely.

  JJ always made it a point to watch whenever she performed for the crowd. Her outfits would vary but always let you know that she meant business and was in charge. He decided that she would make an excellent subject. He waited until she happened to come in alone. She was dressed in regular street clothes which was unusual. JJ strolled over to her table and introduced himself as the owner.

  “Are you enjoying your membership?”

  “It serves my purpose,” she said coolly.

  “Look, I hate to bother you but I am thinking of expanding the place. I would like to get your input on some changes. I want to add the kind of things that my members would enjoy. Would you be kind enough to help me out a little?”