Murder! Too Close To Home

by J. T. Lewis

  “The transformation is complete.”

  He now looked more like a seventeen year old skateboarder than a murder suspect, the mark on his face effectively gone, and a lip ring on the opposite side of his face to draw others’ attention there. He could now easily go back into public without immediately arousing suspicion.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke to no one but the spirits that may be living inside the house. Bowing theatrically to his invisible fans while spreading out his arms with much ado, he continued in a circus ringmaster’s booming voice, “I bring you the new and improved, much feared and respected, the bane of all law enforcement’s existence, the ’Ghost’!”

  Imaginary applause streamed into the room as he blew kisses to his adoring fans. He had never felt more loved and accepted in his life.

  Chapter 39

  March 11, 1997

  We found but a couple other clues at the trashy apartment that marked our suspect as the man who had committed three vicious murders in our county, but we already had more than enough for a warrant for the man’s arrest.

  One glaring exception was the ring from Harold Longstreet’s fireplace; it was nowhere to be found. The general consensus was that he still had it on his person, so that would be another nail in Wesley’s coffin when we finally found him.

  The evidence guys arrived and I remembered to show them the notebook I wanted tested for prints as well as a handwriting analysis. The tech nodded as he put the book in an evidence bag, making notes on the outside with a marker.

  Frank and I headed back to the office about 11:00. On the way back Frank wanted to talk about baseball. It seemed he gave the Reds a fighting chance this year of going all of the way.

  For my part, I had long ago distanced myself from professional baseball and had no clue what any of the teams looked like, nor did I care. But for Frank to bring it up was the strange part, and I saw it as his first real foray into an interpersonal exchange with me, a form of communication I definitely wasn’t used to with him.

  It brought a smile to my face,

  This conversation had taken years of working together to achieve and I relished the fact that he reached out with it today.

  Back at the office I was going over my notes when I noticed an overnight package on my desk. Opening it up, I was pleasantly surprised to find the map that Boris Yang from the state lab had promised. Unfolding it farther, I discovered that it was a large wall map showing the area of Fincastle Silt Loam overlaid onto a road map. I was very pleased to have something showing the large area of Fincastle, as well as showing the way to get to it.

  I took the map into the conference room, tacking it up on the board and hoping it would come in handy soon. Frank entered with a small stack of papers, handing them to me saying, “Your soup information, Gabriel.”

  Flipping through the papers, I realized that they were copies of invoices from a wholesaler to various stores, each one listing ‘John Bros Bean’ at various places within a list of other items supplied to that particular store.

  “Johnson Brothers is a small company in Indianapolis,” Frank started in explanation, “and their area of distribution is mostly north of us. There are two stores in the north part of the county that carry their products, as well as about twenty in Franklin County.”

  Franklin County again, that place just kept popping up, and I was not strong on coincidences.

  Asking Frank to give me a hand, I took the invoices over to my newly acquired map, pulling a box of red map pins out of a drawer as I passed. As I read off the addresses, Frank located and marked the location with one of the pins before we moved on to the next address. After ten minutes, we had all of the Franklin County addresses pinned and stood back to see what they revealed.

  My heart dropped when I realized that most of the locations were in the northeast part of the neighboring county, while the area of Fincastle was mostly in the southwest.

  Mulling this over, I noticed that a small portion of the north end of our county was also shown on the map. I found the invoices for the stores in our county which to this point we had ignored. Reading off these addresses, Frank also placed these pins which revealed both of the stores to be in the northwest part of our county.

  Someone leaving our county and traveling north would surely pass one or both of these stores on the way to Franklin, depending on which way they went. I was feeling pretty good about myself when I looked over and noticed Frank frowning at me, a look of dismay plainly showing on his face.

  Chapter 40

  March 11, 1997

  “Come with me,” Frank finally uttered after looking around the room for a few moments as if looking for something.

  I followed my partner out of the conference room, and then out of the building.

  Heading directly to his car, he entered the driver’s side, reaching over and unlocking the passenger door for me. We drove in silence for a few minutes until we reached our apparent destination…the parking lot at the Legion.

  Exiting the car, I again followed him as he led me into the dark paneled bar, both of us waving a greeting to the two men at the bar as we claimed a table in a dark corner. When the bartender came over for our order, Frank ordered a beer and looked expectantly at me. I declined anything, but my partner quickly chimed in with, “He’ll have the same.”

  We sat there silently until the bartender brought our order and left. Frank took a big swig before replacing the bottle on the table.

  “I truly believe some of the most important conversations in history have been had over a bottle of beer,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking down at the table and playing with his bottle cap. Looking up seriously, he blurted out, “What the hell is going on with you?”

  “Where is this soup thing going? For that matter, where did it come from? I don’t remember any evidence coming up involving soup. And what about the mark on the neck of Mrs. Letterman, how did you know to look there when no one else had caught it. You had never even seen the body? Still haven’t as far as I know.”

  “I thought we were partners, Gabriel. I don’t warm up to people quickly, you know that. But I thought we had built up a pretty good partnership over these last few years.”

  “Now you are apparently getting info from another party and you don’t think it’s important to let me in on it. I gotta tell you Gabe, I don’t appreciate it.”

  I sat there quietly for a few moments, my emotions flipping between being ashamed in not trusting Frank and being apprehensive to admitting the truth. After all, he may try to have me committed when he found out the truth. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the big reveal.

  “I’m sorry, Frank, I have been holding out on you just a little, but it’s not what you think. You’re probably going to have a hard time believing me when I tell you.”

  “Try me,” was all he said, but he said it hopefully. I had seen the beginnings of real friendship from him lately, and knowing how hard that was for him I know he wanted this to work, as did I.

  “Just keep an open mind as I explain, that’s all I ask.”

  He nodded his assent and leaned up in his chair to listen. I knew that meant that I now had his undivided attention.

  “For a long while now, I occasionally have these dreams. Really strange ones, more like visions really. Most of the time, in these visions, I visit a very comfortable room. I play chess with some unseen opponent, drink the best coffee I’ve ever had, and enjoy the fire in the fireplace. It’s a wonderfully relaxing place and I really enjoy myself when I go there.”

  “Periodically though,” I continued, committed now, “I will be suddenly transported to a crime scene, or some other setting and I will be pointed somehow to notice a clue. Those are the clues that you were talking about. I can’t explain why or how it happens, it just happens.”

  “I saw the guy get out of the car right after he shot the first victims. While I was trying to get in the car, a flash of lightning revealed to me a mark on the woman’s neck. I h
ad no idea what it meant; I never know what it means.”

  Frank leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Reaching up, he grabbed his beer and took another big swig before setting it down again. Leaning forward once more, he asked if anything happened about the Longstreet murder.

  “I was on the road in front of the house, although this was before we knew about it and I had no idea where I was, or what was going on. I saw someone sitting on the porch across the road, smoking a cigar. And I saw someone, the killer, leave from the back door of the Longstreet house and walk to a car parked down the road.”

  “So that’s why you went over to Zeke’s house, you knew he had probably witnessed something?”

  “I didn’t know for sure, but I was hopeful.”

  “Ok, then what about the soup?” he asked expectantly. I guess crazy explanations were better than no explanation at all.

  “Last night I was in the room drinking coffee, and then I was in an old house, a very old house, looked abandoned to me. But Wesley was there, at least I think it was him, he was wearing a hood and I didn’t see his face.”

  “Anyway, he was busy organizing stuff in this old house. I’m pretty certain after today it was the location he is hiding out in. One of the things he did while I was watching was stack can after can of this soup on a shelf, like he had a whole case of it. I noticed the brand name, so I asked you to look it up. I wasn’t familiar with the brand; in fact I wasn’t sure it even existed.”

  “I have to tell you I was pretty excited when we found a possible link between my mysterious soup and the area where our soil came from in the first crime scene.”

  Frank again sat back and grabbed his beer, taking a long draw before staring down the neck of the bottle for a few minutes. I had been in front of a judge before, and this felt much like that.

  “Ok, it’s a stretch, but however weird it appears, the information is spot on. We can’t argue with that.”

  To say I was relieved was an understatement. Up to this point, only Betty knew of my visions and their resultant clues. She had been disbelieving at first also, but had been swayed by the evidence. Keeping things from people you care about, even crazy sounding things, is not something I like to do. Having both of these guys in on the story was definitely liberating.

  “But how do we get evidence entered into the case if it doesn’t exist?” Frank asked with a look of concern on his face.

  “We can’t really,” I replied, having given this a lot of thought. “It is more or less a hunch, and we usually have to do some footwork to prove or disprove a hunch. I have been thinking of driving around the Franklin County area in question after work, but looking at the area in question on the map, it’s huge. I was also planning on running by the stores that sell the soup and see if they have sold any cases of the bean soup lately.”

  “Ok, let’s do that then,” Frank said decidedly as he rose from his chair, pulling out some bills to pay for our drinks.

  “I can’t ask you to do that Frank, I can handle it. You’ve surely got better things to do than ride around with me all night.”

  “We’re partners, we work it together,” he came back matter-of-factly. “Two heads are better than one. Besides, there’s nothing on TV this time of year anyway,” he finished with a smile and a wink.

  For the second time that day I followed Frank out of a building and got into his car. This time, however, we stood on a more solid footing. I was getting excited to investigate my hunch with Frank. With him solidly in my camp, the odds had definitely improved.

  Chapter 41

  March 11, 1997

  Having arrived back at the office in good spirits, Ellen handed me a note as I walked in the door. Reading it quickly, I was surprised by what it told me. Reading it again to make sure I was right, I tugged Frank’s sleeve and relayed that they had some info for us at the lab.

  We walked out the building once again and walked across the courtyard separating the courthouse from the building the lab was in. The sun was at its hottest now, the heat on my skin renewing me after a long, dark winter.

  The light level dropped dramatically as we entered the lab, the main room being almost unlit with little pools of light over each of the tables interspersed throughout the room. Letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, I finally spotted a little white lab coat gliding around the room as if it were a ghost, floating through the space on its way to a haunting.

  As my eyes eventually became better attuned to the dimness, I could finally make out the form of the small, balding man that occupied the garment, his black pants and shoes essentially making his legs disappear in the low light.

  Percy Vogel was a prime example of the concept that the naming of a child will influence his or her outcome and personality. I can only guess that when Percy’s mother named him, she was at least subconsciously hoping for a studious and intelligent child as her contribution to this world.

  Well done, Mrs. Vogel, well done.

  The man standing before me was indeed the smartest guy I knew, exemplified by the office wall filled with diplomas from all over the country.

  The only reason he stuck around here in this normally quiet county was to care for his mother. She had been ill for years, and it had always been just him and her, together against the world. She had gladly worked two jobs to send him to college, and in spite of how it affected his career, he felt the overwhelming need to take care of her now that their roles were reversed.

  So he deftly practiced his craft within the confines of a small lab with a limited budget, while still outshining others in his field with much larger resources.

  One glaring exception to what one might expect of the man is that he did exceptionally well with the ladies. Betty and I would see him out often with one of many eligible women, each one seeming more than pleased to be in his company.

  “Percy, I hear you have something for me,” I said as I walked over to the table that held his current interest. Surprise shown on his face as he looked up at me through his round metal glasses, but it quickly turned to a smile as he held out his hand, shaking both Frank’s and mine with gusto.

  “Indeed I do, indeed I do,” he stated as he walked to another brightly lit table, repeating his phrases as was his custom.

  “I have been looking into the code book you found at the apartment of the suspect. As far as fingerprints go, the only ones evident were of your man Wesley. I have also decoded the paper that was stuck between the pages of said book,” he said as he handed me a copy of his work sheet.

  As I began to read what Percy has garnered from the paper, I suddenly looked up in surprise, exclaiming, “Instructions for the Longstreet murder!”

  “Indeed they are, indeed they are,” Percy repeated before looking down once more to his workspace.

  “This book was quite interesting for another reason too, however. I compared the handwriting with that of your suspect and it was definitely not written by him, not by him.”

  “I suspected as much. Can we send this to someone to get a handwriting analysis, maybe get a profile on the author?”

  “Already done,” Percy said with a grin, handing me a report on single-spaced typed paper. “Already done.”

  “I didn’t know you knew how to do that kind of hocus pocus Percy, you are always surprising me with your skills.”

  “I had a few classes in handwriting analysis, even had a refresher course at a forensics conference last month.”

  “How about giving us the high points so I don’t have to try to read this in this darkness your surround yourself in” I said as I squinted at the paper.

  “I can do better than that, better than that,” Percy said as he laid the opened book on the table.

  “We can actually tell quite a bit about a person from their handwriting. Our author has extremely good script, meticulous detail was paid to the lettering; both spacing and conformity are nearly perfect. By the stability in the lines, I would say we are looking at someone in their late twenties or i
nto their thirties, no older than that.”

  “Also, knowing the general attitude in the public schools concerning the lost art of handwriting prevalent for the last twenty years, I would surmise that this person attended a parochial school, or possibly a private one. My guess is that she was at the top of her class, top of her class.”

  It took a few seconds for my mind to process what he had just told me. When it finally hit me I was, to say the least, flabbergasted!

  “You’re telling me that the person that made this book, the possible accomplice to a string of murders, is…a woman?”

  “Indeed she is Gabriel, indeed she is.”

  Chapter 42

  March 11, 1997

  The surprising disclosure of the possibility of a woman’s involvement in these murders left us mute on our walk back to the office.

  We hadn’t even pursued the clues we already had that indicated a potential second person, but the additional revelation of a female in the mix didn’t settle with my gut well at all.

  Percentage wise, women were much less likely to murder, and female serial killers were almost unheard of. Sure, there had been a few notorious exceptions through the ages: Mary Ann Cotton, Nannie Doss and Ruby Lynn Martin to name a few. They were famous for their cold and calculating demeanors while they murdered friends, family, and neighbors. But as appalling as these female executioners were, they still only accounted for a small percentage of our history’s serial killings.

  Entering the office once more, I grabbed Tucker and ask him to get the group together and meet Frank and me in the conference room. He nodded his head and went off to find the others while we went to grab a cup of coffee.

  “Quite a kick in the pants,” Frank mumbled as he poured his cup.

  I had to agree, but was unsure what to do with the information yet. I went over to the copier and made copies of the forensic reports on the code book and the decoded letter to distribute to the other Task Force members.