What a blockhead. All the idiot has to do is work in any police department for a few months and he would sure change his tune. There are bad people, pure and simple, and they are that way because that is what they want to be. Blaming society is nothing more than a cop out. We all make our choices and need to be held accountable for what we do and don’t do. Boo-hoo, they were mistreated as kids. Sob, sob, they were under privileged. They were from the wrong side of the tracks. They were poor. They were the wrong race. He was gay. She was a lesbian. Yeah, yeah, there is always an excuse.
As a cop I know different. There are some people that just enjoy tormenting and hurting others. You can make all the excuses you want for them but in the end that is exactly what they are…excuses. In reality they are scum, like something you step in and can’t get off your shoe.
I know, I sound bitter but here is the thing. I am having to look for someone who just took out three gang bangers after they did one of those knock out game things. This gang kid proved he could knock out an eighty-five year old man. They hit him so hard that he died of his injuries while in the hospital.
What thrill could those four Hispanics get by making a couple of old men move so they could just piss around? Trying to rob some poor old guys living on Social Security. In a few minutes I am going to have to go in and talk to the captain and bring him up to speed. I already know his first question. Is this the same guy in both incidences? The real problem is I’m frustrated and I don’t know what to tell him. My gut says yes but I have no proof to link the two together.
***
“Interesting report,” the captain said.
“It’s pretty straight forward but I’m sure you realize we didn’t make a leap to link the two shootings together,” I replied.
“The only thing that matches is that it was a big bore revolver. I assume you concluded that because of no brass casings?”
“Correct,” I answered.
“What about the three black guys that were shot?”
“Honestly we didn’t get much. One said he thought the guy was going to shoot him so he closed his eyes. The other two have slightly different descriptions. What they agreed on was that he was a Caucasian, had no facial hair. One thought his hair was black the other said brown. None gave an accurate height. It went from ‘maybe five-ten to maybe six-foot’. All three did say he was muscular, not skinny or fat.”
“Could they pick him out of a line up if we find a suspect?”
“Two of them thought so, the other guy said he doubted it.”
“This is stupid. We have all these people and we don’t have a clear description of the guy,” the captain said frustrated.
“Other than to the three black guys, he is a hero. He came to the rescue,” I replied.
“If it is the same guy.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
“Then I suggest you find out. The DA called and that was his first question,” McGregor said.
“I suspected as much,” I replied.
“What did you tell him?” Dan asked McGregor.
“I told him it was too early to determine that at this point in time. We would need more time to evaluate the evidence.”
“Oooh, good answer.”
“That’s why I get the big bucks,” McGregor said smiling.
***
Vigilante Saves Seniors – The headlines read the following morning. According to the story, a lone gunman was going around the city saving senior citizens being targeted by gangs. Reading the article you would think the guy was doing what the police should have been doing all along. Of course there was no mention that what he had done was considered a felony and he was going to be charged with murder when we caught up with him.
I had watched the news last night so I was kind of expecting something along these lines. Kelli had been able to get her digs in on the ten o’clock news last night. She went as far as to suggest that we weren’t putting much effort into finding the shooter since he was doing our job for us. It was typical of the way she reported.
Usually things like this upset me but I decided to just let it go. I couldn’t do anything about it anyway.
Dan came in, did his coffee routine and plopped down in his seat.”
I waited and waited. Okay, long enough.
“We have to talk to the Captain,” I told him.
“And say what? We don’t have squat.”
“Then that’s what we will tell him,” I responded.
“Well that will just tickle him pink.”
“Do you have a better plan,” I said frowning.
Dan got in a funk just like we all do from time to time but something seemed to be really bothering him. I couldn’t decide whether to charge ahead or wait for him to tell me. I decided to use the tact that I am so famous for.
“What’s your problem grump butt?”
“This whole thing. How can a guy shoot three or four people and no one can describe what he looks like. The three black guys said he was white. The other people we talked to weren’t sure or gave a different race. Why would so many people cover up for this guy. And then that smart mouth reporter last night saying we weren’t trying very hard. It really got to me,” Dan said.
“A couple of things. The reporter is a moron so just forget about her. She is a nobody who thinks she is important. As for the rest, you have to look at it from their point of view. He is ridding people of potential crime. Look at the age of the people we talked to. Almost everyone was fifty or older. Some were in their seventy’s and eighty’s. They can relate to being put into the same situation. Is what he is doing wrong? Hell yes, but on the other hand, we aren’t going to get much help from the general population. We are on our own on this one. We aren’t going to get the people to help us apprehend him. And last, we don’t even know if it was the same person. My gut tells me it was but I’ve been wrong plenty of times. Our job will be even harder if we have two people running around,” I said.
“Still, it’s a bummer.”
“Buck up boy, stiff upper lip and all that stuff,” I replied
***
The captain was in a pretty good mood and was pretty understanding considering all things. That does not mean he was happy but he didn’t jump our case either. Out of the entire conversation the hardest part was when he asked if we wanted to divide the cases; one case to us and the Lincoln Park shooting to a different pair of detectives. I actually considered it for a few seconds but my stupid gut kept telling me it was the same guy.
I have to give the captain total credit. He just said ‘okay if that’s what you want’. I was expecting a little more discussion but thankfully it wasn’t necessary.
Back at our desk Dan said, “That was fairly pleasant.”
“He gets it. He knows we can’t force the witnesses to cooperate. We need to see if there are any video cameras in either of the two areas that might have caught something.”
“Sure, maybe one of those spy drones captured it all,” Dan replied.
“Don’t be a wise guy. Lots of stores and banks have cameras. All we need is to get lucky with one of them. If nothing more, we might get a fix on the car.”
“Then I guess it’s time to go beat the bushes.”
We had just started to head downstairs when my phone rang.
“Bartoni, you need to get over here. I got something for you,” Sorenson said.
“I hope you are not referring to a slab.”
“I wish. No. I thought something was strange when we looked at the latest victims but I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. Now I’m sure.”
“We are on the way. Want anything from the new Deli that just opened?”
“Oh my goodness. Bartoni being nice to me. I don’t know if I can take it.”
“Look you old fart, you want something or not.”
“Ah, that’s better. Corned beef on rye, brown mustard, and a dill pickle. Oh and some chips,” doc said.
“Got it. We will be there in about a
half hour.”
“Don’t take too long. I don’t want to drool on the floor waiting.”
“You drool all the time anyway,” I said and quickly hung up.
“Did you say we were going to go to the Deli?” Dan said, panting like a dog.
“Yes Rover. We are going to stop at the Deli.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I love a good Deli. Something about the smell and noise gets me in the right mood for a great sandwich. These sub shops just don’t do it for me. It is a whole combination of little things. This place had only been here about a month. I had heard really good things about it and that is rare. A deli has to do so many things right to survive.
I got a corned beef on rye for me and Sorenson with brown mustard for him and yellow for me. Dan got Pastrami on marbled rye. The people behind the counter were just surly enough to make it feel like a real Deli so I think it will make it overall. Of course the real test will be when we chow down.
Sorenson was actually waiting for us. He grabbed the sack from my hand.
“Come on, times a wasting,” he said leading us back to this office.
I couldn’t get a word out of him as he gobbled down his sandwich. The only thing I got was an occasional slurping sound from his Coke and the crunch from his chips. Finally when he was done he sat back and looked content.
“Now that was a sandwich. You did good Bartoni.”
“Always happy to please. Look, I hate to bother you but you had something you wanted to show us,” I said.
I had only finished about half of my sandwich and could see both Dan and Sorenson eyeballing it. No way was I going to get into the middle of that. They could figure it out on their own.
“Take a look at this,” he said handing over a small vial with some small black pellets in it.”
“Shotgun pellets?” I asked.
“Give that girl a gold star. That is exactly what they are.”
“They came from the victims?”
“Correct again. My, my, you are on the ball today,” Sorenson said.
“But I thought they said he used a hand gun.”
“Correct. These are from a .410 shot shell.”
“That certainly changes things. The first guys were shot with something like a .44 magnum. This is totally different.
“Yes and no,” Sorenson said.
“Boy, that’s a big help.”
“Smith & Wesson Governor, Taurus Judge, Colt .45, Magnum Research and even a few other Smith & Wesson’s like the .41 Magnum can shoot either .410 or shot shells. There are probably others. You’re the detective, you should find that out. I can’t do everything for you.”
“Ignoring that remark, that explains why the perp almost had his head literally blown off.”
“Absolutely. The distance had to be close enough to do that kind of damage but not too far away. I’m figuring four to five feet. No more.”
“And the others?” I asked.
“A little further away but not much maybe six to seven feet. The dispersion pattern was a little more wide spread.”
“So we are either looking for two different shooters or he has changed tactics.”
“I don’t know about tactics. They seem pretty much the same to me. Walks up and shoots them. The ammunition is different but the results are essentially the same,” Sorenson replied.
“You know, they make a lot of shot shells for guns. Not just the big bores.”
“That’s true Dan but to do this kind of damage we are not talking about some little .38 loaded with them. It was a magnum.”
“I’m just saying,” Dan said defensively.
Actually Dan was right. Now days they made shot shells, like mini, shotgun shells for a variety of guns. The problem was they had to be used at a fairly close range for them to do any real damage. Obviously the smaller the caliber, the closer you would need to be to not only hit them but to do any serious damage.
“I don’t know if any of that helps but there you go,” Sorenson said handing over the autopsy reports on the four dead Hispanics.
The name was at the top of each file. Gonzalo Castillo, Raul Rios, Gerardo Guzman and Cristiano Valdez. Gonzalo was the one that was missing most of his throat. The report on the ballistics was also included.
“It does help that we have names now. As for the shells, unfortunately they sell those things in about a million different places and on the internet so tracking them down probably isn’t going to happen,” I replied.
“Okay, that’s enough jawin’. You and this tall drink of water go out and do some detective stuff.”
“Yes, oh masterful one,’ I said.
“About time you got that right,” was his sardonic reply.
***
“Do you still think the two are linked?” Dan asked when we got back to the car.
“I have to admit, I am less convinced than I was before. Seldom do people make that kind of change. I mean, after all he seems pretty sure that people aren’t going to turn him in, so why use a gun that requires you to get pretty close to do any damage?”
“The one consistency is he seems to favor up close and personal. Like he wants them to know what is coming,” Dan added.
“Okay, I can buy that. It’s a heck of a risk but I see your point.”
“So what now?”
“Lincoln Park first and let’s see if there are any cameras in that area,” I replied.
“I would think there should be something,” Dan replied as we headed out.
Calling it a park was a stretch of the imagination. I suppose technically it was but it wasn’t more than a block in any direction. It had two sidewalks that crossed and a few benches. Over on one side was a small covered area with four picnic tables. There was nothing for kids to play on. Maybe that’s why Charlie and Benny chose the place, no kids making noise. Right now the place was deserted. Not a person in sight.
“You see anything?” I asked Dan.
“Nope. You go that way,” he said pointing, “And I’ll go the other. We can meet back here.”
“I didn’t see any banks nearby but there might be an ATM machine.’
“I’ll keep an eye peeled,” Dan said heading off.
The wind was kicking up and I only had on a light weight jacket. It was the kind that seemed to cut right through you. I jammed my hands in my pockets and pulled my collar up, my head slightly bent down. It seemed no matter which way I turned, the wind was coming right at me. I covered both sides and found absolutely nothing that would help. I even checked to see if they had traffic cameras in this area. No such luck.
I headed back to the middle of the park but Dan was not in sight. I waited, freezing my butt off. Five minutes, and then ten went by. I was stomping from foot to foot to keep warm and still no Dan. Then it dawned on me, I remembered seeing a little pizza restaurant on one of the side streets. If he was there I would commit a felony on him.
I headed off and was halfway down the block when I saw him coming out of the restaurant. He had that deer in the headlights look when he saw me coming. He knew he was going to get an ear full. He was holding up one hand and a bag in the other. I just glared at him.
“Look, I didn’t see anything okay? I thought you might like a bite to eat so I got you an Italian Meatball Sub. It has Provolone and Mozzarella cheese on it. You’re going to love it,” he said.
“Dan, have you ever once gone on an assignment without thinking about your stomach first? I’ve been waiting in the middle of that damn park for fifteen minutes freezing my butt off while you are in an Italian Restaurant all nice and cozy,” I said, trying to stay focused on being mad and not thinking about the meatball sandwich. It did have Provolone and Mozzarella so it was really hard to keep on my ‘mad’ task.”
“I didn’t think it would take that long. They had one already made but it didn’t look so good. This one is fresh out of the oven,” he said holding the bag out closer to me.
“Where is yours?”
“There are two i
n the bag.”
“I should eat them both,” I said grabbing the bag from his hand.
“They are too big. No way can you even eat your own. I’ll end up eating the other half of yours,” he laughed.
That did it. I was going to finish it if it killed me. I had the bag in my hand when I turned and stomped off to the car with Dan following close behind. He wasn’t about to let me lock him out of the car and eat while he had to watch. I did that once, just once. I thought he was going to hyperventilate and I was going to have to call the Paramedics before it was all over.
Dan takes food very seriously. That is one thing I learned not to tease him about. Well, too much.
CHAPTER NINE
We were getting desperate enough to take a bunch of mug shot books to the three black guys to see if they could pick out the white dude that shot them. Now there are all kinds of ways to waste time but this had to rank right up there at the top. Tyrone Lippton picked out one guy as definitely the one that had shot him. Kyreen Johnson IDd a totally different guy and of course Jaymar Soto chose a different one.
If that wasn’t bad enough, all three they picked out were currently incarcerated. Absolutely brilliant. In the meantime Eric had been doing an internet and store ammunition search for anyone buying .410 shot shells. We knew it wasn’t going to help much when he came in with seventeen sheets of computer printouts, all single spaced, with the names of people who had purchased the ammunition. It was another dead end for us.
We resorted to television and print media, asking for help in solving the murders and shootings but so far we had been getting nothing but useless leads. It was my no good son-in-law. My neighbor is the type do so just such a thing. Stuff like that. Nothing we could really follow up on. Still, the more reasonable ones we did try to track down. To date it had been nothing more than an exercise in futility.
At this point all we were getting was frustrated and tired of running down bogus leads. No blinding flash of light to help us find our way was forth coming.
Victim's Advocate: Angie Bartoni Case Flie # 12 (Angie Bartoni Case Files) Page 4
