Black Bird

by Greg Enslen

  Another connection in a case that seemed to be filled with tenuous, nebulous connections to other times and places and times. Julie wondered at the chances that it was a coincidence. “And the other victim?”

  “Abe Foreman, one of the town’s leading businessmen and accountant to many of Liberty’s biggest names. He oversaw the distribution of Beaumont’s will after his death, and set up a trust fund for David. He also helped Gloria manage her accounts after her sister died, making it easier for the Aunt to raise him. She was something of a drunk, and had managed to spend a lot of the money intended for David before Abe could step in and take over. Evidently Gloria was in the process of moving to a new home, and Abe was helping her make the arrangements.”

  Another connection. But what did it all mean? “So, how do you know they were killed? I haven’t heard anything about it?”

  At this question, Norma seemed reluctant. “Well, let’s just say I know somebody who would know one way or the other. And they told me that even though the deaths are still listed as accidental in the papers, they are both being vigorously and quietly investigated as homicides. There’s even a member of the State Police here, up from Richmond, to help with the investigation.”

  Julie sat back, thinking. If Jasper Fines, or whatever his name was, had come back here, it had to be for a reason. Revenge could be ruled out - Sheriff Beaumont was dead, and pretty much everyone else on the police force back then was either dead or retired or had moved away. The current Sheriff was about the only one left, and Norma didn’t seem to think the man was very smart, or much of a Sheriff. So why come back?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Norma said, smiling. “I don’t know why, either, but maybe that’s not important. Maybe the important thing is that he is back, for some reason we can’t figure, and now we have to deal with him.”

  “Well, if it’s revenge, it’s screwy. Beaumont’s long gone, and there’s no one to blame, right? He came very close to being caught here, but that had to happen all over the nation, right? He was probably in a lot of scrapes like the one here, so why come back here?”

  Norma shrugged. “I dunno, but the coincidences keep piling up. Here, look at this,” she said, handing Julie the sheet of paper.

  Julie saw that Norma had made up a list of facts from the recent killings and those that had occurred in 1978, and there were several connections that Julie and she had already discussed. And something else jumped out at Julie, stilling her breath and making her stomach leap up into her throat. Under each of the killings, both in ‘78 and the more recent ones, there was something missing from each of the victims.

  Including Sheriff Beaumont. Next to his name, Norma had written “Star”.

  Julie showed it to her. “What does this mean?”

  “In all of the ‘78 cases, including Beaumont, there was something obvious missing from the victim. But instead of taking a finger of the victim, Jasper Fines took the sign of Beaumont’s office. He took William’s shield, a six-pointed star that read ‘Liberty Police Department’.”

  She saw the look on Julie’s face. “Just like a collector.”

  “Yeah, just like him to take something like that,” Julie said. “It was the sign of Beaumont’s power, his office. And it would make sense for him not to take something more...physical, because he’d just shot several cops and needed to get out of there fast.”

  “Right,” Norma agreed, popping another couple of pills. The pain in her gut was strong again, worse than it had been in months. Hearing about all those other killings had brought the rumbling back. And talking about all of this wasn’t helping, not one little bit. Maybe just the act of telling someone else, to know that there was someone else out there with the same concerns, maybe it was doing her some good, but the pain was still there, and still very real.

  Julie watched her take the pills. “That’s eight, just since I’ve been here. Is the ulcer that bad?”

  Norma looked at her, suddenly angry. “No, I just love to pop these gritty, chalky things. They’re just as good as candy. And that news you gave me about being responsible for the death of scores of innocents? That really made me feel a lot better,” she said bitterly. “That really made my day - I think I’ll take myself out for dinner tonight and celebrate!”

  “I’m sorry,” Julie apologized. “I didn’t mean to press, it just seems like you take a lot of those, enough to warrant more serious medical treatment. Can’t they operate on them or something?”

  Norma shook her head, calming a little. No one was trying to hurt her, no one wanted to belittle her - the woman was just curious, a good trait in an investigator. “Sorry. No, my doctor said that surgery couldn’t help me - only a life of little excitement and lots of very bland food.”

  Julie smiled. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but things around here are anything but dull. Julie turned to look out the window as a strong gust of wind rattled the glass, and she could see the water rushing through the gutters and starting to back up in the streets. The trees were leaning in the wind, and the rain fell so heavy that she could barely see her care, even though it was parked in the driveway, only 20 feet from the house. “And to think I was planning to spend tonight curled up with a book at my house.”

  “Yeah, things are certainly exciting around here,” Norma said, one arm in its natural position, curled around her stomach. She wore a strange expression on her face, one that Julie couldn’t read. “And the pain gets worse and worse, the more exciting they get.” Norma’s eyes suddenly took on a far away glaze, like she was looking out past the windows and the walls of her home, looking at something that was very, very far away. “Sometimes I wonder how much longer the medicine will help.”

  They were quiet for a few minutes. Julie gathered up her files as she explained that she needed to next inform the local police that she was conducting an investigation in their jurisdiction, and then Julie pulled out her cell phone and tapped some digits, waiting for the call to go through. But nothing happened.

  “Hmm, that’s strange.”

  Norma looked up at her, pulled away from her black thoughts. “What?”

  “Well, I tried to call D.C., but I’m not getting anything.” She tried it again, but got the same result - nothing but silence instead of the familiar clicks and whirrs as the cell phone made the connection.

  “Maybe the weather’s messing it up.”

  Julie nodded. “Yeah, or maybe their transmitting tower is down. Can I use your phone real quick?”

  Norma pointed into the kitchen. “Help yourself. Calling for backup?” she asked, a wry look on her face. Outside, another strong gust of wind battered rain against the window.

  “Well, I do need to call in what we’ve talked about, and tell them that I’m going to go talk to the local authorities. And yeah, it would probably be a good idea to get a more experienced case agent out here - if this is anything even close to what it could be, then I’m not nearly experienced enough to lead this investigation in the field.” Julie picked up the phone and dialed, but as she soon as she started punching the numbers in for a long distance call, a recorded message came on, telling her that phone service outside of the local calling area was temporarily unavailable. Local calls could still be made, but wires were down due to storm damage and would not be repaired until tomorrow.

  She went back in the living room.

  Norma had been thinking about how much she wanted a smoke. The doctors had made her quit a few years ago, convincing her that it would only aggravate the ulcers and make the pain worse. But right now, it seemed like all she could think about - ever since the FBI woman had told her about all the other homicides that Jasper Fines might’ve been responsible for, Norma had been able to think of little else except taking a long, slow drag on a cigarette, feeling the smoke fill her lungs. When Julie came into the room, Norma looked up at her and saw a strange, troubled look on her face. “Trouble?”

  “Yeah,” Julie said, sitting down heavily. “The land phone lines are d
own, too, or at least the ones that run out of town. Looks like I’m on my own for a while, at least until I can call out.”

  “Uh-huh.” Norma looked down at her shoes, trying to decide whether or not to ask. “Do you think it’s a good idea to involve the Liberty Police Department? I mean, in my experience, they’re a bunch of idiots who couldn’t find their own butts.” Norma was also thinking that she might have to reveal the information that Joyce had given her in confidence, something she didn’t want to have to do. The woman was a good friend, one of the few that Norma had, and she didn’t want to risk that friendship on something that might not pan out.

  “Yeah, I think it’s the only way to go. They have to know what they might be up against, and I also need to tell them that I’m conducting an investigation in their jurisdiction.”

  “Okay, but there’s something we have to talk about on the way.”

  Julie nodded, surprised that the woman would want to become further involved. Norma pulled on her coat and helped Julie carry the reports out to her car, and then they both climbed in and began the slow, deliberate drive to the Liberty Police Station. The rain was falling in sheets now, and the gutters were full of dirty water, racing into the sewers.

  Mike Wallace had more information now, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

  He’d talked to Chris Hanson, the Cray Liaison to the Bureau who had been working with Julie, and he’d told Wallace that the killer’s habits evidently often included mutilation of the victim’s body in addition to the collection of different parts of the bodies. Wallace had asked him to review the reports from Florida, and after a few minutes Hanson had called back to say that the cop’s death and subsequent mutilation could’ve easily fit Julie’s killer’s pattern. The only reason it hadn’t shown up in her reports already was probably because it was so recent. He’d also said that the Black Diamond Killer was infamous for mutilating some of his victims in addition to collection body parts, and when Wallace had told him of the connection, the computer expert had been quiet for a long moment.

  They agreed that the fact that the only witness to the cop’s death had repeated the name of the town where this killing may have all started was a coincidence too large to be ignored.

  Next, Wallace had called Agent Sims in Florida, but their conversation had not helped settle his mind, either. He’d caught the agent on his way out of his house for a family trip to New Orleans, and the agent had been eager to share his information and be on his way. The cop had been killed, mutilated in fact, a gruesome sight. Intentionally mutilated, as if to anger local law enforcement. The girl had been shot and one of her toes had been removed, but she was recovering after spending several days in a coma. When the agent told Wallace that the girl’s toe had been removed, he’d felt a quick shiver go through him. Was it the same crazy guy? Sims also said that he’d looked at the thin file on Sally and saw no mention of Liberty, so there was no obvious likely connection - as far as the FBI could tell, she’d never visited any of the towns across the country or had any relatives or friends anywhere near any of them. Sims seemed to feel that the girl had heard the words while in the company of the killer, and he’d mentioned twice the fact that “Going to Liberty” were the first words out of her mouth when she’d finally managed to make her way out of the coma. Wallace had agreed with Sims on that point - why not something about her family or her fiancé, or something about the pain she was in, or ask about where she was or what had happened to her? Why the name of a town she’d probably never heard of before?

  Wallace had thanked Sims and hung up, thinking. Now what? Somewhere in the middle of all of this speculation and evidence and innuendo was the truth - one only had to look deep enough to see it. What if Julie’s Black Diamond Killer had traveled the entire length and breadth of the nation? That would help to explain why the Black Diamond Killer had never been caught, along with a hundred similar homicides across the country - but could it be true? Wallace found himself grappling with the enormity of the possibility. And, if it were true, then the greatest mass murderer in the history of the nation was loose and still killing, as recently as six days ago. And there was no one out there to stop him but a bunch of small town cops and a rookie FBI agent with wide eyes and no idea of how to handle herself in a potentially dangerous situation.

  He thought about it for a few more minutes and then decided that if he was going to make a mistake in this case, it was better to make a mistake on the side of caution. No one could fault him for being too cautious, for as slim as the possibility was that Julie Noble was correct in her theories, there was still a possibility.

  First Wallace called his supervisor to fill him in on the situation, but he got the machine and due to the nature of the case, he left a cryptic message for Darren Paynod to call him back as quickly as possible. There was no way Wallace could explain what was going on to Darren’s answering machine - that went against everything he’d always been taught about secrecy and accountability. This would have to do, and hopefully his boss would return the call soon and Wallace could get further direction; until that time, though, Wallace was calling the shots on this whole thing.

  Next, he called the closest FBI office to Liberty, the state office in Richmond. He talked to the highest-ranking agent on the premises and explained as much of the situation as he could to him, and quickly the agent had offered to take another agent and go up to Liberty to check it out. The phone connection had been a landline and, therefore, very clear, but the Richmond agent had said that with the storm passing through the area, a lot of local phone service was out. The Richmond agent also mentioned that the Virginia State Police had already assigned a Lieutenant to assist local law enforcement in the Stevens case. Wallace agreed that it was probably the best thing to do, and he also passed along the case file numbers for them to download and study before leaving. Wallace explained to the agent that it was probably nothing to worry about, but he also warned them to be careful - if Julie Noble’s outlandish theory was even close to being correct, they might be going up against one mean son-of-a-bitch.

  After the calls were made, he felt a little better. Things were working, the wheels were in motion. But the last three calls brought his spirits back down.

  He’d brought a copy of Julie’s latest report home with him, just in case, and he tried Norma Jenkins number without any luck. The line just beeped at him, a slow busy signal that told him something was wrong with the lines.

  He next called information for that area code for assistance, but the voice that answered told him that the phone lines to that town and several towns in the area had been knocked out by rain and fallen tree branches. Workers were repairing them and he should be able to make his call tomorrow or Monday.

  His last call was to Julie’s cellular phone, but he’d gotten a recorded message which told him much the same thing that the lady at Information had told him - power outages, line breakage’s and tower and relay station problems were wreaking havoc on the Cellular One telephone system. He made a couple of other calls and estimations of repair times varied from hours to days, depending on who he talked to.

  Mike Wallace hung up, worried again. Backup agents were on the way to help her, but he couldn’t contact Julie to warn her about the new information they had, or to tell her that more experienced agents were coming. Or to tell her to be careful, to be on her toes.

  Sheriff Brown and Lieutenant Blake were both surprised to find out that an FBI agent was in town.

  They were even more surprised to hear that she was investigating something that had happened in the town 18 years ago. Brown had assumed, when he’d first heard she was here, that she was in town to take over the Stevens case, or to ‘assist’ with the Thatcher/Foreman investigation. The group, consisting of Brown, Lieutenant Blake, Julie, and Norma Jenkins, went into a private conference room and Julie started talking.

  She only got about three minutes into it before Brown was laughing out loud.

  “Whoa, little lady. You sa
y that this guy is back, the guy that killed Beaumont?” He looked at Norma with disgust. “And you’re in on this, too?”

  Norma didn’t look at him - she’d hated him for a long time, and Julie had had to practically drag her into the building to begin with. Norma had wanted to come along and discuss how Julie should present the case to the cops, but she hadn’t wanted to come in - she felt that her presence would undermine what Agent Noble was trying to explain. Now, as she watched and already knowing where this conversation would lead, all Norma wanted was a smoke.

  Julie spoke up. “Yes, and my supervisor in D.C. felt it was important enough for me to come down here and interview her personally. And along with the information she has given me, and what I have learned about your three recent deaths, I think it is something that needs to be investigated.”

  Blake hadn’t said anything yet, but it all sounded a little far-fetched to him. He hated to side with the piece of blubber sitting next to him, but really - what were the chances the guy would still be following the same pattern so many years later? The guy this pretty little agent was looking for was probably long gone, taking a dirt nap somewhere, and this latest string of killings was coincidence. She did make some valid arguments, though…

  Brown was talking again, picking apart the agent’s theory, and Blake noticed that while this was all going on, the Jenkins woman just sat there and watched everything, taking it all in like a sponge. She had the eyes of an investigator, and she was obviously following everything that everyone was saying and dismissing most of what Brown was talking about. That right there got her points in his book.

  “And because the Stevens girl was missing some pieces, you just run out and assume this is the same guy? And then you get in your car and come all the way down here from ‘Deeee Ceeee’ to ‘enlighten’ us local yokels? Who do you think I am, Sheriff Andy Taylor or something? I have investigated homicides before, little lady, and I don’t need you coming into MY town and telling me what to do.” Brown said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Blake, who looked away. No reason to give the guy any more support.