MURDERS IN A SMALL TOWN
Part One
By Sean Lennon
Rick Danbury hated his life. And he hated the quaint little town that he had been forced to relocate to. But, of course, it was his fault for everything that had happened in the past three weeks. That was what his captain told him. He tended to disagree.
Rick was one of the best homicide detectives in Montreal. None of his cases were left unsolved. Rick had been born in Montreal and had explored the entire city as a kid. He knew all the back alleys and holes in the wall like the back of his hand. No criminal could hide from Rick for more than a day before Rick caught them and hauled them off to jail.
The one thing Rick enjoyed about Montreal was that there were crimes happening all the time. Somewhere, someone was being mugged, stabbed, shot, or even beaten to death. And thus, Rick had something to do. Every case he was on, kept him from brooding about his life. He always thought negatively about all the things around him. Having a relationship was useless because he always expected the woman to sleep around on him so he never allowed himself to open up and care about anyone. But the dead could never cheat on you, he thought. The dead victims needed him to care. So he did. He put himself entirely into his cases. That was the one thing, his captain had been proud of him for. Danbury never gave up until he found the people who had committed the murders he was assigned. He didn’t give up on his last case, even after he found the identity of the killer.
Danbury sat at his desk with pictures of all four prostitutes in the poses that they had been put in by the killer. All four bodies had all been made to look like little girls. Their hair had been put in pony tails, the kinky school girl clothes placed on their bodies, and they all held a large lollipop in their right hands. Yet, under the once pure white buttoned down shirts, the bellies of the prostitutes had been sliced open and all their major organs had been removed.
But the oddest of the deaths was that all the prostitutes had salami placed between their legs in their thong underwear. The oddity had opened a door into the mind of the killer. It was a start. But before he knew it, the case would take an extreme turn.
At the scene of the fifth murder, Danbury hit pay dirt. There was a partial print on the shoe of the victim. Rick sat and watched the computer run through every print in the database. Some times, he was told, the search for a match would take days. But if it meant identifying the killer, he would sit and watch for a week.
Halfway through the second day of the database search, the computer matched the partial with a thumb print. Danbury’s jaw dropped at the sight of the name that the print belonged to. Yet, he still rushed the printed sheet to his captain. That was the beginning of the end for Rick’s career as a Montreal homicide detective.
“What the hell is this?” Captain Hancock asked at the top of his voice.
“It’s him. The killer.”
“Do you realize what you’re telling me?”
“Look, I know this seems nuts but that’s the print match from the one I took at the last crime scene,” Danbury replied. The captain stared at Danbury with a look of disgust.
“So, this is the killer. Premier Connell’s son, Ralph.”
“It fits. I’ve watched him on TV. And he does have a criminal record.”
“For reckless driving and college school pranks, Rick! Do you know what the Premier would say when he gets word of this?”
“I know it seems bad, but trust me on this one. My gut says it’s right.”
“Yeah, well, my brain says that your gut’s burned out. You’re gripping at straws.”
Rick took the comment to heart. He knew that he was pouring himself into his work lately but that didn’t mean he was losing his touch. Deep down, he knew that Ralph made the profile on the killer. Connell was raised in the spotlight and was brainwashed into walking straight, dressing formally, and speaking intellectually constantly. Yet deep down, Ralph had his own personality that yearned to be released. And what better way than through rebellion? Of course, Rick knew that rebellion unleashed for too long could result in murder. Danbury would have bet his life on the fact that their prostitute killer was the Premier’s son.
“Get out of my office. You’re now on leave of absence. You need a break.”
“What? You’re kicking me off the case?” Rick was stunned by the order. There was no one better on the force to close this case than him. The captain didn’t know what he was doing.
“Drake will be put on it as soon as I see you leave my office. Now go. Take a vacation, you look like shit, Rick.”
“Drake’s got his head up his ass! You put him on and you’re only going to end up with more dead women!”
“I’m not going to tell you again, Rick. Get the fuck out of my office.”
Rick left, fuming. He would be damned if he allowed Captain Hancock to cover up the case. Those dead girls were all someone’s children. If his daughter died by some killer’s hand, he’d want the police to do all they could to catch the bastard. And he was going to do just that.
Danbury became Connell’s shadow, lurking in nearby shadows, watching, and absorbing all he did. The more he watched, the sooner Connell would give in and blow the case wide open. And eleven days later, Rick had what he was looking for.
Connell and a college buddy of his went downtown and straight to the Detention Room, a strip club that specialized in bondage and other fetishes. Rick was right behind them.
Ralph scoped the scene and found his pick. A petite blond, in her mid twenties, who wore her hair in pigtails and was covered in nothing but a plaid skirt and suspenders. He smiled from ear to ear and walked slowly to the prey. Rick stood back far enough to be hidden, yet close enough rush him if Connell tried anything.
“Hey there,” Connell said to the girl over the loud beat of a song by the band Curve. The stripper smiled back and leaned forward, whispering into his ear. They mingled for a few minutes before the stripper led Connell into the back. Rick went along, grabbing a girl nearby and trying to get her to lead him into the back as well. She went only for the money Danbury waved past her face.
Once in the back, he watched from across the room as the stripper went down on Connell. He was getting into it intensely, Rick saw. It was only a matter of time before the killer in him took over and persuaded the girl to go elsewhere. Then it happened.
Rick noticed Ralph get frustrated and pound a fist onto the seat next to him. The stripper stopped what she was doing and the two spoke words. Then the stripper stood up and led Connell by the hand to a door in the far corner of the room. Rick pulled the stripper he had up and asked her where the door led.
“Tha’s the alley. Ain’t no way I’m going wit you there.”
Rick pulled a fifty from his pocket and slammed it into the stripper’s palm. Then he got up and walked across the room to the door, leaving the stripper behind. He quietly opened the door and slipped out into the alley behind the strip club. It was too quiet for him. Rick slowly crept down the alley until he heard a gasp. It was the stripper. Connell had wrapped a thin wire around her neck and was pulling it with all his might.
“Damn whores! You’re not helping me. I ask you to get me hard and make me happy. But no, you failed. See? Daddy dearest thinks he knows everything, but you can’t try to make a kid normal after you screw him from behind for several years!”
Rick froze. The final piece to the scattered puzzle was placed. The motive. He had all that he needed. The stripper would be more than helpful backing up Danbury’s report. Rick leapt forward and wrapped an arm around Connell’s neck. Connell let go of the wire as soon as he realized that there was someone else in the alley with him.
In the end, Rick had knocked out two of Connell’s teeth as well as bruising a few of his ribs. But it was all good, because the stripper agreed to testify and put the bastard away for life. Yet, Rick didn’t take into account Premier Connell. The Premier walked in and destroyed everything that Rick had built. The stripper was threatened with her life to keep hush about the incident. Evidence from the case went missing. And Rick was crucified by the department, as well as the media, for the “grave mistake.”
The Senator even went so far as to visit Rick at his home to inform him that he was being transferred out of Montreal and west into Alberta. And that was two weeks ago. Since then, he had been moping around the small quiet town of Fort Macleod, bored out of his mind. The only murder case to happen since he arrived was the death of an elderly woman’s cat. This was quickly solved when the town drunk walked into the police office the following day to apologize for accidentally running over the poor animal.
And now he sat, just he had for the past three days, at the Queen’s tavern, just below the Queen’s Hotel. In his hand, a bottle of Molson Ice, and on his mind, dreams of some purpose in his newfound quiet small town life.
* * *
It was a mere three hours before that Stuart Katz had stopped short in his jog through the Willow Creek Wilderness Park. And it was two hours and forty minutes that Stuart was carted away by an ambulance, leaving three of the five police officers in Fort Macleod in the same area where he had discovered the body.
“Dear God,” said the first officer on the scene. Officer Roy Harber took his hat off and wiped his face with his palm.
“Where’s her face?” Officer John McIntosh asked from behind the hand covering his mouth.
Officer Terry Rentz continued vomiting as he did the moment he laid eyes on the body.
Sheriff Anthony Craig arrived on the scene in ten minutes. Then he saw just how bad it had been. The Fort Macleod police were able to identify the gender of the female victim from the fingernails and groin. The skin on the head was completely removed. Only muscle and bone remained. The breasts had also been removed. The skin on the rest of the body had turned blue due to the cold weather and the decomposition.
Craig shut down all access leading across the bridge leading to the Park. Then he called in volunteers to assist in searching the rest of the park for any other mutilated bodies. The Park was a number of trails leading throughout the small forest just north of town. The one lane bridge that crossed the Old Man River, which ran along side of Fort Macleod, was the only path to it and several farms further north. The Park also included a parking lot and a children’s playground, yet joggers and the elderly in town who enjoyed a walk through nature used the park the most.
It was an hour before they found the second body in a snow bank. The body had been there as long as the first one, yet this one was male. They guessed that the man was homeless the long stringy hair and the filthy clothes that were still on the body. Another thirty minutes found both the sheriff and the two bodies at the town hospital.
“Sam, thanks for coming in.” Sheriff Craig shook Doctor Bennett’s hand. Bennett had a tired look on his face. Tony felt bad waking Sam up in the middle of the night but this emergency called for the best.
“It’s no problem, Tony. I’m in total shock. I can’t even remember the last time I was called in to do an autopsy,” Sam Bennett yawned.
“Last murder I remember was the janitor of the Empress Theater. And that was what? Seven years ago?”
“About that.” Bennett pushed his thin glasses up the bridge of his nose and walked down the halls towards the autopsy room. Craig followed him to the door and left Sam Bennett alone to do his job and returned to the Willow Creek Park.
Officer Harber approached Craig the moment he saw his car pull up to the yellow police tape. Harber’s ears and cheeks were bright red from trekking through the park in the freezing night air. Craig stepped out of his car and saw that the spotlights had gone up around the area to help with the search for more bodies.
“Anything else?” Craig asked.
“Nothing but the two that you sent to the hospital,” Harber replied.
“I’ve never seen anything that horrible,” Craig informed his right hand man. Roy rubbed his hands together and nodded in agreement.
“What the hell are we going to do?”
“Let them look for another thirty minutes and then send them all home. But make sure that Terry stays behind to guard the two spots where we found the bodies. If there’s any evidence left behind, I think it would be best to find it in the morning when there’s enough light.”
“Gotcha.” Harber turned and joined with the searchers for more bodies.
Craig stood, staring over the area. Never in his three years as sheriff had he had to deal with something of this nature. Fort Macleod was not big enough to house anything more than a released pedophile. Murder was something that existed in larger nearby towns like Calgary or Lethbridge. He and his men were not prepared for a murder, let alone two. That was Craig’s biggest fear.
“Sir, what are we going to do?” asked John McIntosh, who had walked over to Craig like a lost puppy.
“The best that we can,” was all Craig could reply with.
“What about that new guy?”
“Danbury?” Craig’s head lifted up. He had forgotten about the new detective since he arrived two weeks ago. The town had never needed a homicide detective, so Craig had greeted Danbury and pushed him away, laughing at Danbury’s misfortune.
“Yeah. Isn’t this his expertise?”
“Yes, it is. Do you know where Danbury is?”
“I usually see him hanging out at the Queen’s.”
“Good. I want you to drive over there and get him. Let him know that we finally have something for him to do.”
TO BE CONTINUED…..
Part Two
By Sean Lennon
“Hey Dummy!” shouted one of the three men that entered the Queen’s Tavern. Rick turned around to see that their attention was pointed at the long haired quiet Indian man at the other end of the bar. The man looked back and frowned.
“I’m no dummy, I’m Sonny,” the Indian man replied to the three instigators.
“Oh yeah, then what’s two plus two?” spouted the middle one. He stood the tallest of the bunch with a thin and short head of hair and a goatee.
“It’s four,” the Indian replied proudly.
“Wrong!” laughed the third. He staggered over with a wild look in his eye and stomped in front of the Indian. The Indian almost fell backward off of his stool. This made all three laugh harder.
“Enough, guys!” shouted the bartender. He poured the trio a row of beers and they took them over to a table near the pool table at the other end of the bar. Danbury waited until the bartender returned to his end to inquire about the trio.
“Who are they?” Rick asked.
“Annoyances,” the bartender said. “The tall balding one is Jeff. He’s the leader of the bunch. He’s married to the town tramp, Leann. If you’ve been in town two weeks, you’ve already met her. The crazy one is George. Rumor has it that he has a metal plate in his head, thus the insanity. The quiet one with the cap on is Smitty. He’s a nice guy but stuck in with the wrong crowd.”
“Sounds like a great bunch to hang out with.”
“You don’t know that half of it,” said the bartender walking away.
Rick sat and watched the trio that just walked in goof around. Small towns are worse than the big cities, he thought. The less people there are, the more that know your business. And Fort Macleod was small enough to be a festering pot of gossip. He was finding this out the hard way. But then again, it could prove for entertainment, seeing how there were so few murders taking place in the town.
“Hello, Mr. Danbury,” Sonny said, leaving his lonely spot in the corner and making his way to Rick.
“Hey Sonny. How’s things tonight?” Rick had met Sonny a few days after arriving in Macleod. Sonny was quite slow for thirty-one, but was still very helpful and friendly with his neighbors in town. Rick had gone on a walk the second night he had been there to familiarize himself with the town and it’s streets. While on his walk, he had run into Sonny who was hurrying home because it was after sundown.
“Hello, mister. I’m late going home. Nighttime is no good for Sonny being outside,” he had said brushing past Rick.
The following day, he had come across Sonny again. This time, Sonny stopped and talked his ear off. He asked Rick if he had anything that Sonny could help him with. Fortunately, Rick needed to get himself better acquainted with the town folk, so Sonny had taken him on a tour, introducing him with everyone they came in contact with. That was when Rick learned how bad things were. The dead quiet town was going to be the death of him.
“Things are good tonight. WWF tonight. The Rock is an awesome fighter,” Sonny explained with a grin from ear to ear.
“Yes, he is.”
“Triple H is my favorite too. But The Rock is my more favorite.”
“I think so too.”
Sonny grinned at Rick and then waved to the bartender. He wandered over to the television behind the bar and turned it on so Sonny could watch his wrestling. Rick lost himself in his Molson Ice and wished things back to the way they were.
That was when John McIntosh walked in looking for him.
* * *
Rick pulled into the parking lot of Willow Creek Park. The first thing he noticed was that the area with the bodies was a complete mess. There were too many people walking around, spoiling the evidence. He gritted his teeth and stepped out of the car.
“Detective,” Roy said, greeting the stranger.
“You in charge here?”
“Well, actually Sheriff Craig is but he’s not here right now.”
“So who’s in charge now?”
“I guess that would be me.”
“So why didn’t you say so in the first place? There’s way too many people here. You’re destroying the scene.”
“We are?”
“Yes, Dudley Do-right, you are. Now get everyone wandering around the hell out.” Rick walked away, heading towards the spot where the first body was found. He crouched down and removed the pen from his jacket pocket. Using it, he sifted through the dead plants and snow for anything out of place. He was glad for the bright spotlights, for they helped with finding the smallest clue.
Danbury squinted and pushed a branch out of the way. Underneath he found a tiny patch of blue cloth. The cloth was stained dark brown. Dried blood, he thought. But whose? The victim or the killer. Rick would need the cloth analyzed. He looked up and saw the cop that had picked him up at the Queen’s.
“Hey, you. What’s your name?”
“John McIntosh, Detective.”
“John, you have a baggie?”
“Nope. We don’t really use them here.”
“Obviously.” Rick picked the cloth up with his gloved hand and placed it in his shirt pocket. That would have to do for now. Danbury stood up and began walking over to the second area. Before he could reach it, Terry Rentz shouted from the west.
“Hey guys! I’ve found a third!”
“It’s my lucky day,” Danbury said to himself.
Rick followed the third body to the hospital where Dr. Bennett worked on the first body. He removed his jacket and put on hospital scrubs and plastic gloves. He peeked into the autopsy room and saw that Sheriff Craig was there, watching. He entered with the blue cloth in hand.
“Doctor Bennett, this is Detective Danbury,” Craig said as Rick walked over to the table. He held the hand with the cloth up in a sign of greeting. Craig noticed the evidence but remained quiet for Bennett’s sake.
“Find anything helpful yet, doctor?” Rick asked.
“Actually, I was just telling the sheriff that the killer tried to make it difficult to identify the body. He removed the victim’s face and scraped the fingertips. And he even tried removing a tattoo on the victim’s backside. But he left behind a small part of the tattoo for some pinpointing.” Bennett pointed to the victim’s lower back to where a partial of the tattoo remained. It looked like a tribal design that most kids had these days.
“Looks like a familiar design. It’s not going to be easy.” Rick leaned forward, trying to find any other identifying marks.
“In this town, not many kids have tattoos. The nearest tattoo shop is in Lethbridge. My son went there. Without permission.”
“It’s a good start then. Anything else you can tell me?”
“She’s been dead for a week now. As is the other body that was brought in earlier. The cause of death was the deep cut on the throat. The killer made sure that she died. He stopped cutting when he hit bone.”
“So the skin and breasts removal was post mortem?”
“Not quite. The breasts were post mortem.”
“The skin on her head was taken off while she was alive?”
“Barely alive, but yes. There’s numerous bruises all over her body that suggests that she was beaten unconscious and then skinned.”
Rick’s head began churning. Beaten unconscious in order to skin the victim suggested that the scene where the killer kept the victim was not secluded. That meant that he could have kept her in his own house. Clue number one.
“What about the skinning? Can you tell what was used?”
“Something sharp and effective. Most likely a skinning knife was used. And the killer knew how to use it too. He did a nice job. No veins or arteries were cut. The muscle is intact.”
The killer knew how to use a skinning knife. Clue number two.
“Can you take a look at this?” Danbury asked Bennett. He handed over the cloth with the blood stain. Bennett looked it over briefly and then looked back at Rick.
“I’ll do what I can. But we’re not the most up-to-date with the forensic gizmos here.”
“Anything you can tell me about it is help.” Rick handed the doctor his cell phone number and joined the sheriff outside the autopsy room.
“Looks like you showed up just in time,” Craig said to him.
“You make that sound almost sarcastic. I thought small town folk didn’t know the meaning of sarcasm.”
“Very funny, Danbury. Listen, I’m hoping that the big city attitude doesn’t swell your ego here. My men and I keep a good watch on this town. Just because we have three bodies in one night doesn’t mean that I’m over my head.”
“This is my specialty, Sheriff. When’s the last time you dealt with a murder?” Craig’s silence answered Rick’s question. Rick put his jacket back on and walked out.
“Wiseass,” Craig muttered.
* * *
The following morning, Rick looked into places in and near town where people worked with skinning knives. He came across a horse plant called Bouvry Exports. They specialized in selling horse meat wholesale across the country. Rick contacted Craig and told him to meet him there to question the employees. Craig called ahead and had the supervisor, Chi Wang, waiting for them.
“Sheriff, we all okay here. No need for a inspection,” Chi said, worried.
“Calm down, Chi. We’re not here to inspect the plant. We just want to talk to some of your workers is all.”
“They all legal. No aliens here,” Chi continued.
“Where is your skinning room?”
“Skinning room? Over in side of plant. Why you want skinning room?”
“Because I liked Silence of the Lambs,” Rick said sarcastically.
“No, we no have lamb here. Only horse and buffalo.”
Danbury sighed and wondered to himself if everyone in Fort Macleod was as clueless as the people he had come in contact with. He walked into the plant and headed in the direction that Chi had pointed. A few minutes later, he entered the skinning room. Two men stood beside a row of hanging meat. Both men were muscular and wore white outfits that were now covered in blood. One man had a chiseled jaw with a long mustache while the other was younger and clean-shaven. He approached the men, noting the skinning knives in their hands.
“Excuse me, guys. I’m detective Danbury,” Rick reported, flashing his badge, “Can I talk to you a minute?”
“We’ve got to get this done or else the supervisor’s gonna be ticked,” the younger one told him.
“That’s okay, I already spoke to Mr. Wang. He’s given me permission to interrupt you.”
“What do you need, Detective?” The mustached one stepped forward, appearing thankful for the short break.
“How many people work in this area?”
“Just the two of us. The fewer the better is the way the owners think. But then again, we do the work of five men every day.”
“Does anyone else come in to help out on really busy days?”
“No, they just push us harder,” the younger one spoke up.
“Do you have names?” Danbury asked.
“I’m Mike Walker and this is Ernie Adams,” the mustached one replied.
“And you both live in Macleod?”
“Yup. What is this about anyway?” Walker crossed his arms and looked irritated.
“Three bodies were found in Willow Creek last night. Coroner says that a skinning knife was used.”
“You think we killed them?” Ernie asked nervously.
“I’m not thinking anything yet. I’m just questioning.”
“So why come to us?” Walker asked.
“You’re the closest to town. Not many other places near have people using skinning knives.”
“Well, it’s not too hard to learn. Even cooks know how to cut meat.” Walker was beginning to get to Rick. His attitude was becoming rude and snappish. Danbury kept close watch on Walker’s movements.
“Where were you last week?” Danbury asked him.
“I was visiting my sister in Vancouver. Got back three days ago. Why? Am I a suspect now?”
“Not yet,” Rick told him.
“Well then we have to get back to work.” Mike turned around and went back to his job. Rick stood and watched him swing the skinning knife with swift grace. He smiled and took note of Mike’s name for when he returned to Chi with a request for Walker’s address. It would be a short time before he got proof on the killer and knew that he would be returning here.
Craig leaned up against his car waiting for Rick to finish with his inquiry. When Rick returned, Craig tossed the information at him.
“Bennett called. He’s completed his analysis on the cloth you found at the crime scene. It’s the girl’s blood. And he’s found identification on the bodies too. The girl is Beth Sands, age eighteen. Parents believed she ran off to Calgary, which is why they never reported her missing. Second body is David Runninghorse, local homeless man. Nobody missed him. And the third was a Grace Olin, age thirty-seven. Lived in Lethbridge but was here last week house sitting for her mother, Eunice Olin.”
“So the killer knew that the victims would not be reported missing for weeks. Have one of your guys question the girl’s parents. See if Beth dated or hung out with anyone before she disappeared. That might be able to help us with a suspect.”
“I thought of that and sent Roy out there. We’ll hear about it when he returns to the stationhouse.” Craig smiled at the fact that he anticipated Rick’s train of thought. Take that, he thought.
“Not bad for a small town sheriff. Now what about Eunice Olin? Got an address for her?”
“Yup. I’ll show you where she lives.” Craig got behind the wheel and started the police car up. Rick jumped into his and followed the sheriff back into town.
* * *
“But I saw her drive away,” Eunice Olin cried, “She was fine when she left. It wasn’t even sundown yet!”
Rick hated this part of the job. Telling an elderly woman that her daughter did not outlive her. It was the hardest thing for a person to comprehend. Danbury vowed never to have children for that purpose.
Eunice Olin collapsed onto her recliner and cried into her hands. Craig looked over at Rick and held a hand up to make him pause on his questioning. Then he walked over and put an arm around the old woman. Danbury turned his head and examined the living room that they were in. There was nothing out of the ordinary so Rick deducted that the questioning was useless. He was not going to find anything helpful there.
The doorbell disrupted the quiet solace of Eunice Olin. Craig lifted his head at Danbury and made a face that asked if he would answer the door. Rick nodded and walked over to the door. Outside, Roy Harber stood. He saw that it was Rick and smirked.
“Is the sheriff here?”
“Yeah, c’mon in.” Rick stepped out of the way and Roy entered the house. He was relieved that Craig was indeed there, sitting next to Eunice.
“Hey Sheriff, I’ve got some interesting news from Beth Sands’ parents.”
“Don’t hold back, Roy. Out with it.”
“I spoke to them and they told me that they and Beth had had an argument before she ran out of the house the night she disappeared.”
“What about?” Rick asked.
“Normal teenage stuff. They didn’t like the way she acted or dressed.”
“Anything else?” Roy questioned, hoping for something worthwhile.
“Yes, they also told me that she was dating someone before she vanished too. An Ernie Adams. They said that he was actually a good influence, so they didn’t have a problem with him dating her.” Danbury and Craig swung their heads in the other’s direction and looked hard. Roy stopped talking and frowned, unaware of what he had said wrong.
“What?” he asked the two.
“Ernie Adams has knowledge of using a skinning knife,” Rick explained. Both Danbury and Craig stood up and headed out the door to their cars. Rick started the car up and looked back at Eunice Olin’s house. That was when he noticed something. Craig was about to drive away but put the police car back in park when Rick got back out of the car. He watched him stand up and pull out a piece of paper from his jacket, look down at it and back up at Eunice’s house. Then Rick looked up the block and walked away. Craig pulled out of his parking spot and followed Rick. Rick stopped walking three houses away from Eunice’s and stared at the house before him. Craig rolled down the window.
“What is it?” he asked the mysterious detective.
“This is Walker’s house,” Rick said pointing to the house he was standing in front of. “That’s too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Craig agreed.
“First things first. Let bring in Adams and see what he has to say. Then we can come back to Walker. Somebody’s got to have something to give up. And Adams looks easy to break.”
“Good idea,” Rick said, walking around the police car and entering in the passenger side. Craig was a little surprised by Danbury’s easy agreeing. Perhaps he realizes how clever small town sheriffs can be, he thought. Then he shook the thought from his head and drove off to Ernie Adams’ home.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Part Three
By Sean Lennon
“Beth’s dead?”
“You didn’t know?” Rick questioned Ernie Adams in the small office belonging to Sheriff Craig. The two cops stood on the opposite end of the table from Ernie and interrogated the young man.
“No! I mean she and I broke up the night she decided to run off to Calgary,” Ernie told the two men.
“Why did you two break up?”
“She said I was ‘too nice’ for her. She had this plan in her head that she was going to make it big because this town only held her back.”
“Too nice, huh? Maybe you decide to show her that you weren’t so nice as she thought?”
“What?” Ernie shifted in his seat, sweat slowly running down his forehead. Rick had a feeling about Ernie but wanted to make sure before he went with it.
“Yeah,” Craig agreed, “She spurned you. You’re too good to be spurned by such a petty girl. So you showed her, right?”
“Whoa, hold on. I didn’t do anything to her. She was fine when we split that night. Someone else killed her, not me.”
“Did you see this someone?” Rick asked, knowing that they were getting somewhere.
“No, she walked down Main Street to find a ride to Calgary. I wasn’t going to spend money on gas driving her there.”
“She didn’t tell you that she was getting a ride?”
“No, she said that she was going to hitch a ride there. She didn’t think about the nuts that are out there. She thought nothing bad would ever happen to her. I swear I didn’t kill her.” Danbury leaned back against the wall and stared at Ernie.
“Do you have anyone to back up your story?”
“Yeah. I went straight home and my parents were there when I did. Then I called my friend, Bobby, to tell him what happened.”
“Write down your phone number and Bobby’s address. Then I want you to go home and don’t think of leaving town until we say so.” Rick tossed a pad and pen in front of Ernie and watched him scribble down the information. Then he got up from the chair and bolted from the room.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Craig asked.
“If you think that he didn’t do it, yeah, I am.”
“Now what?”
“Now we talk to Mike Walker. See what his alibi is and then we go back to Willow Creek to check if we missed anything that can help.”
Craig reached out for the doorknob and grabbed air when Terry Rentz threw the door open. He bumped into Craig, rushing into the office. Craig pushed Rentz back and gritted his teeth.
“Terry! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Sheriff, we just got a call. They found another body outside town.”
“What? Where?”
“In Old Man River, right by the Route 2 overpass on the way to Lethbridge.”
“Dammit,” Rick muttered.
* * *
Rick crept down the steep hill under Route 2 to the edge of Old Man River. There, he found Roy Harber and John McIntosh already looking over the body with the man who found the body and another officer from Alberta Providence Police. Great, he thought, another ruined crime scene thanks to Barney Fife and Opie. He went over to the two officers and stuck his thumb out in the opposite direction.
“All right, that’s it for you two, go wait up top,” he said straightforward. Roy and John looked at him and then each other. Knowing that he had more authority there, yet wanting to tell him off, they walked back up to their cars and waited.
Danbury walked over to the fourth body. He crouched down and put on a pair of latex gloves that the Alberta police handed him. Rick then softly grabbed the body’s shoulder and turned it over.
The fourth victim was a woman in her early forties. Like the others, her throat had also been cut deep, from ear to ear. Her body, stripped of all clothing, had also been covered in dark bruises. Yet, the difference with this one, Rick noted, was that the woman’s hands had been removed from the arms.
“He removed her hands but left her face,” Craig spoke, standing over Rick, “If it wasn’t for identification, then why?”
“Most likely, she struggled, maybe managed to scratch him. Rather than remove the fingernails so that his skin and DNA weren’t found, he went one step further and took the entire hand.”
“You’ve had others like this?” the A.P cop asked.
“Yes, but not as clean cut,” Craig replied. Rick stared at the body, knowing that there was something familiar he was looking at but could not figure out what it was. The cut throat did not coincide with any old cases he worked on. But he knew that the killer was a clever man. The killer knew what he was doing and what he needed to do to prevent his capture.
“What’s that?” Craig asked, pointing to the victim’s mouth. Rick leaned forward and squeezed the mouth open. Not sure what it was, Danbury pulled out a tiny mouse, alive. Craig covered his mouth and looked away. Rick immediately analyzed the meaning of the mouse in the victim’s mouth. Finding out the answer would help in figuring out the identity of the killer. Things were not making sense.
“Get a hold of the hospital,” Rick told Craig, “Have them send an ambulance and send the body to Dr. Bennett for any help that he can provide.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know. But I need a drink,” Danbury replied. He walked back up to the side of the highway and over to his car. Roy Harber and John McIntosh were still there, talking. Rick listened to them as he walked past.
“Heard that Ron Platt is acting up again. He almost beat the crap out of an Indian last night.”
“That guy needs to calm down and control that temper. And those weightlifting contests aren’t helping.”
Rick stopped short. He knew of Ron Platt, whose father owned the Westerner restaurant and lounge. Ron helped out by managing during the time when his parents were on long trips out of town. But Rick did not know of Ron’s short temper.
“What did he do to the Indian?” Rick asked.
“What?” Roy asked, startled by Danbury’s interest.
“This guy, Platt. What did he do?”
“Smashed a glass mug over his head because the guy wouldn’t leave at closing time,” Roy explained.
“Does he normally lose his temper like that?”
“Not really, once in a blue moon. But he’s able to hold back most times.”
Rick’s suspect list became one name longer.
* * *
Danbury walked into the Queen’s Tavern that evening, just wanting to relax and go over everything that had occurred in the last two days. The minute he walked in, he heard the shouting of rowdy patrons. He saw that Jeff and his buddies were there and they were crowded around Sonny next to the pool table in the center of the bar. Just what I need, he thought, more crap.
“Hey, when Jeff talks to you, you respond,” George said, pointing a finger in Sonny’s face. Jeff smiled and pushed Sonny back into Smitty. Smitty pushed Sonny back and into George. The bartender was about to intervene but saw that Rick was planning to take care of the situation. He stood behind the bar and folded his arms, looking forward to the show.
Rick grabbed Jeff by the ear and swung him around to the other side of the pool table. George watched and then moved in to swing at Rick but Rick stopped him short with his .45 Automatic, pointed directly at George’s forehead.
“Go ahead, try me,” Danbury told him and Smitty. Meanwhile, Jeff squirmed, trying desperately to release Rick’s hold on his ear. Rick pulled Jeff close to him and got in his face.
“You want to pick on someone? Please, pick on me. I need something to entertain me in this little hole in the wall you call a town.” Jeff was speechless. Danbury stared long and hard into the bully’s eyes and finally let go. Jeff flew back and fell to the floor and was humiliated. He stood up, brushed himself off and stormed out of the Queen’s. George and Smitty followed.
“Rick! Rick! Thank you for saving me!” Sonny shouted, “You are my bestest friend now!”
“Calm down Sonny,” Rick told him. He walked over to the bar and looked at the bartender. He reached down and fished out a Molson Ice and placed it in front of the cop.
“On the house,” he said before returning to the other patrons. Rick took hold of the beer and swallowed half the contents. It felt good and much needed.
“I buy you a beer, okay?” Sonny suggested.
“No thanks, Sonny. I’ll buy you one. How’s that sound?”
“Really, Rick? Wow! I really like you, Rick! You are good to me. Not everyone likes me. They only make fun of me. That makes me sad.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that they don’t anymore.”
“Thank you Rick! Thank you, thank you!”
“Don’t mention it. Now join me in getting drunk.”
“Oh, no, Rick. Sonny doesn’t get drunk. Miss Olin says that it is bad to get drunk. I drink O’Doul’s! It tastes like beer but Sonny doesn’t get drunk!”
“O’Doul’s it is,” Rick told him, flagging down the bartender. He returned with Sonny’s non-alcoholic drink and they watched Sonny smile as he walked back to the pool table.
“Rough day huh?” the bartender asked.
“That obvious?”
“Nope, heard about the murders.”
“How?”
“It’s a small town, detective. Nothing happens here that everyone doesn’t find out within an hour. Besides, three murders is big stuff here.”
“It’s four now.”
“Damn, any suspects?”
“Nothing strong yet. What do you know about Ron Platt?”
“Platt? Other than that he’s a bonehead, there’s not much to him. Why? Is he a suspect?”
“No, just heard about him. Do you head a lot about him getting into fights?”
“In town, no. In Lethbridge, he does, often. He’s a little thickheaded. But I did hear one of the ones killed was Beth Sands. That true?”
“You’re not kidding about it getting around town. Yeah, it’s true.”
“Well, there’s a lot of people who could have offed her. Men and women alike.”
“Nobody liked her?”
“Not really. Beth was pretty much looking to overthrow Leann Morris for her spot as town tramp.”
“Beth Sands slept around?”
“Yup, and from what I heard, she was good at it. Had several of the guys here wrapped around her finger. Ron was one of them. He was chasing after her like a dog after a car. But she led that guy around big time, never gave him any. Hell, Jeff Morris had a piece of her too.”
“So, Ron Platt knew her?”
“Not as well as other guys but yeah, he did.”
Scorned love was a perfect start to a killing spree. Ron Platt fit the profile almost perfectly. All Rick had to do was link Ron to the other killings. Platt’s short temper and rage was the best target.
“Thanks, I better get back to the investigation.” Rick stood up and placed a twenty on the bar. He put his coat on and said good night to Sonny. Sonny hugged Rick in response and Danbury took off to question Platt.
He got there in five minutes, walking. Inside, the lounge area was filled with people, listening to someone mutilate a Nickelback song with a karaoke machine. In the back of the lounge was a separate room with a pool table and two video game machines. On the left side was a line of electronic casino machines, all currently being played. Ron Platt stood behind the small bar by the entrance of the lounge. His massive arms tilting bottles in a hurry to mix drinks for one of the tables. He looked up for a second and nodded hello before going back to mixing. He waited for Platt to finish and deliver the drinks to the appropriate table. Ron did so and returned to the bar.
“Can I get you something?”
“Yeah, a couple of answers,” Rick flashed his badge and smiled. Ron gave him a puzzled look and looked at the crowd that sat before him.
“What’s this about?” he asked curiously.
“Did you know a Beth Sands?”
“Yes, why?”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“About two and a half weeks ago. The day before I left for the tournament.”
“What tournament?”
“Curling competition over in Vancouver. I go there every year to compete.”
“How long does it last?”
“Two weeks. I got back four days ago.”
“Do you have anything to back this up?”
“Why?”
“Do you?”
“My name is down on the sheets there. They even filmed it for Global TV. I made it to the Finals but lost to a big German.”
The tournament killed Platt as a suspect. Surely, Rick would be able to obtain tons of evidence proving that Platt was not in Alberta when Beth Sands, Grace Olin and the homeless man were murdered. The investigation was going nowhere. Danbury gritted his teeth and walked out of the Westerner, stuck in the same spot that he was when he walked in.
* * *
Craig sat up when Danbury stormed into his office. Craig could automatically smell the beer on him. And the angry look in Danbury’s eye didn’t help him. He closed the door behind him and sat down at the desk. Craig did not move and wondered about Danbury and his previous routine with his cases. Did all big city detectives act this crazy?
“What’s wrong with you?” Craig asked.
“Beth Sands is the start,” Rick said with a serious tone.
“Okay.” Craig was unsure of what Rick was getting at. But he was curious, so he went along.
“Sands was a popular girl in town, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“One of the guys she was sleeping with is the one we’re looking for.”
“That’s a big list,” Craig joked.
“All right. But with the other information we have, we can slim the list down.”
“How do we do that?”
“Look,” Rick pulled a pen from the collection on Craig’s desk and flipped a paper over to show him. He wrote Sands at the top of the paper and circled it. “Okay, we know that the killer used a skinning knife.” Rick wrote that down under Sands.
“That puts Adams and Walker on the suspect list,” Craig continued.
“Right, and we know Adams has too big a conscience so he gets the boot.”
“Leaving us with Walker.”
“But what’s the link to the other victims?”
“I don’t know. But I know that Ron Platt didn’t commit the murders because he wasn’t even in town.”
“He was a suspect?” Craig asked, puzzled by the unheard mention.
“Yeah, but only for an hour. Anyway, we know that Walker and Olin live on the same block. There could have been an argument between them and Walker, now familiar with killing decides to off her as well.”
“And the homeless man?” Craig saw where Rick was going with it all.
“Practice. He knew no one would miss a homeless man, so why not use him for something.”
“But the woman we found today was quiet and friendly. She worked at Luigi’s restaurant. A,” Craig looked at Bennett’s autopsy report, “Dawn Marie Gilmore.”
“The mouse in her mouth has a meaning. Most mobsters use the rat to show the world that the victim was a tattletale or a snitch. I think that this Gilmore woman knew or saw the killer and before she could identify him to us, he took her out.”
“So where are we?”
“Our only suspect left,” Rick pointed to the paper. Mike Walker’s name was the one name that was not crossed out. Craig stared at the paper and then looked up at Danbury.
“We’ve got one problem though.”
“What’s that?”
“Stephanie Garrison called. Her son, Shane, is missing. Has been since last night. He was supposed to be staying over a friend’s house around the corner from her house but he left there in the early evening and never made it home.”
“Where’s Walker now?”
“I don’t know but I’ve got Roy, John and Terry patrolling the town with some of the other volunteers. This has to stop, Rick. The whole town is frightened to step outside.”
“Send John over to Walker’s house. If he is there, have him sit outside and watch him. Don’t let John pull him in if he’s home. If we let him find out that we’re on to him, he may never lead us to Shane Garrison. Otherwise, find him and you’ll find the kid.”
“I’ll get a hold of him right now,” Craig grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed John’s cell phone. Rick prayed that Walker had not tortured and killed the boy just yet.
TO BE CONTINUED….
Part Four
By Sean Lennon
Danielle and Nicolle Warner left their house early, looking forward to reach the playground behind the G. R. Davis middle school to try out their new scooters. The school was only across street from their house so their parents allowed them to go while they were watched from the front window. So they took hold of their scooters and hurried off to test them out.
“Last one there is a poopiehead!” Nicolle giggled.
“We’ll see about that,” Danielle replied, pushing as fast as she could. She looked down at the pavement below her and kicked her foot with all the energy she could muster. She would never allow her younger sister to beat her in a race. She was almost at the fence that surrounded the playground when she heard Nicolle scream. Danielle stopped short and swung her head back to her younger sister. Nicolle stood in the middle of the street screaming at the top of her lungs, pointing past Danielle to something beyond. Danielle turned again and looked in front of her. Beyond the fence, in the playground, on the jungle gym that Nicolle loved to climb, the two girls had done what the three police officers had failed to do the night before. They located the mutilated body of Shane Garrison.
* * *
Rick pulled up to the curb alongside the fence to the school playground and shook his head at the crowd huddled around the fence. Just like the big city, he thought. Everyone’s a sucker for a crime scene. That was one of the problems with Craig. He didn’t know the rule of preventing the contamination of a crime scene. The killer knew that and was using it to his advantage.
He pushed his way through and saw what the crowd was gawking at. Seven year-old Shane Garrison had been found strapped to the jungle gym in the G.R. Davis school playground. What he noticed that the crowd didn’t was that Shane was tied to the bars of the jungle gym using his own intestines. The boy’s gut was cut open in the typical autopsy T slice. A vertical cut from shoulder to shoulder was intersected with a horizontal cut from neck to groin. Anyone who dissected bodies or animals knew the procedure in removing the inner organs. Another clue that pointed to Mike Walker.
As he walked to the body, he saw something else. On the boy’s forehead was writing. He leaned forward and squinted to look past the blood and read the letters that had been cut into Shane’s forehead.
“What the hell does that mean?” Terry thought aloud, looking over Rick’s right shoulder.
“It says LIVE MAI,” Roy answered.
“What’s MAI?” Rick sighed at the incompetence of Craig’s men. How could he deal with these guys on a daily basis?
“You’re reading it wrong,” Danbury informed them, “Get me a mirror.” Roy and Terry looked at him and then went off to find one.
“You look like hell,” Craig said to Rick.
“Thanks, I feel like it. I got a few hours of sleep but it feels like I never rested.”
“I know the feeling. This case has me sleeping very little.”
“Here you go,” Roy said, handing Rick a mirror he took from a bystander. Rick took the mirror and waved them behind the still hanging boy. Then, Rick held the mirror in front of Shane’s forehead. The message reversed read: IAM EVIL.
“This is not good,” Craig muttered, breaking the silence.
“Take him down and send him Bennett’s way. We know that the throat cut was the killing slice, so let him have the parents identify the body so they can get the process of burying him underway.” Rick walked away from the jungle gym and stared at the ground while he ran his hand through his messy hair. Once he was a fair distance from the scene, he looked up and scanned the crowd for Walker. It was a fact that most killers always return to the scene to admire their work. And if Walker was the man, he would be watching from amidst the crowd. He looked at every face pressed up against the fence but did not find his man. Yet he stopped when he saw Jeff Morris looking straight at him. Rick dropped his hand and took a step towards the fence, when Craig grabbed his shoulder.
“Got some bad news. This was done last night but Mike Walker wasn’t the one who did it.”
“What?”
“I had John sit in front of Walker’s house all night. Mike never left the house once. He can’t be the killer.”
“Dammit. We’re back to square one then. This is really pissing me off.” Rick stormed off, angry at the constant dead ends they were hitting. Craig shook his head and headed back to the body to make sure it was treated properly.
* * *
Rick walked into the Circle C corner store for a bottle of Coke. Leaving the store, he found Sonny waiting for him.
“Rick! I saw you!” Sonny smiled and gave Rick a big hug. Rick smirked and nodded at his new friend.
“How are you, Sonny,” Danbury asked him as they walked down Main Street. Sonny bounced along with him.
“I am great! I got a lot money from Mrs. Olin today. I helped her mow the lawn!” Sonny then stopped and pushed his chest out in a pose of triumph.
“Not bad,” Rick replied, “So you know Mrs. Olin?”
“Yup! She’s a nice lady. She’s always good to me. I like her.”
“Did you know her daughter too?”
“Yes, I met Grace. She’s good to me too.”
“That’s good.”
“Yup! But Leann did not like Grace. She yelled at her. I don’t like Leann.” The comment from Sonny made Rick perk his ears up. He stopped and stared at Sonny.
“Leann Morris? She yelled at Grace?”
“Yup! Leann yelled at Grace. She called Grace a bad word.” Sonny lowered his head at the thought of the names that Leann called Grace Olin.
“Did Leann call Grace a bitch?” Rick questioned Sonny. Sonny shook his head no.
“A whore?” Rick tried. Sonny looked up with puppy dog eyes and nodded yes.
“Leann is not nice. Grace is a good lady. I like Grace,” Sonny repeated.
“Why did Leann call Grace Olin a whore?” Rick thought aloud. Sonny shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head at Rick.
“Was Jeff there when Leann yelled at Grace?”
“Yup, he was there. He watched Leann yell.”
“Did Jeff know Grace?”
“Jeff is friends with Mrs. Olin. I don’t like Jeff. He is mean.”
Rick wondered what the connection was with Eunice Olin and Jeff Morris. Then he remembered that the Bartender at The Queen’s had mentioned that Jeff and Beth Sands had an affair. That was two links to two of the victims. Gilmore may have known something about the killer. That was the motive to her death. But the death of Shane Garrison did not fit. Unless, Jeff had a problem with Shane’s mother, Stephanie. It explained his presence at the crime scene this morning. Danbury knew he was grasping at straws but it was still worth looking into. He had to question Jeff Morris and find out if there was more to the bully than he knew.
“I have to go now, Sonny. I’ll see you later?”
“Sure Rick!” Sonny gave Rick another big hug and watched Rick jump into his car and head straight for the Queen’s Tavern.
* * *
Rick pushed the door open and rushed into the tavern. It was moderately filled with patrons in the middle of the afternoon. Perhaps that was the only way to deal with this town, he thought. It fit him to drink his misery away.
He looked around, searching for Morris, but didn’t find him. Rick made his way across the floor and over to the bar. The bartender reached under the bar counter and Rick held his hand up, refusing any beer that he was reaching for.
“What can I help you with then?” he asked.
“Have you seen Jeff Morris today?”
“Nope, haven’t seen him all day. Why?”
“I’m looking for him,” Rick told him.
“He didn’t hurt Sonny, did he?”
“No, I’m just looking for him.”
“Well, I can tell him if he comes in later.”
“Call me the second he walks through the door,” Rick said, handing him a card with Rick’s cell phone number on it. The bartender agreed and Danbury sat down, welcoming a beer.
After an hour, Danbury decided to call it quits. The case was spreading him thin and he couldn’t imagine going on the same way for much longer. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in days. He placed his money on the bar and walked out. Rick noticed the sun already setting in the west. Looking up and down the street, Rick saw the lack of people on the street. That was another thing about the small town. Everyone and everything closed up and hid in their houses at the sign of sundown. He remembered Montreal being different. There, everything started up the moment the sun vanished. He wished for the day when he could return to the days that he loved and the cases that made sense.
“God, this place sucks,” he spoke to himself.
Then Rick looked across the street.
“Son of a bitch.” He looked into the eyes of Jeff Morris, who was sitting in his 1974 Comet across the street from the Queen’s. Jeff then turned and started the car. Rick ran forward at full speed. Jeff threw the car into drive and peeled out of his parking spot.
Rick stopped short and then turned back around to the side of the Queen’s where his car was parked. He jumped in and started it up immediately. He was close to closing the case. Rick could feel it in his bones. He swerved around the corner onto Main Street and saw the Comet turn off Main Street onto Third Avenue. Rick followed in pursuit.
Once on Third, Rick sped forward, trying to catch up with his latest suspect. Things were staring to piece together. But there was one thing missing, Jeff’s motive. What was it?
Rick was inching closer as the two cars sped down Third Avenue when his cell phone rang. Danbury pulled the phone off his belt and answered it.
“Rick, it’s Craig. What are you doing?”
“I’m chasing Jeff Morris down Third Avenue towards the train tracks,” shouted Rick as he tried to keep control of the car.
“What? Why?”
“I think he’s our guy. And he running like he’s guilty. Hang on,” Rick told Craig as he jumped over the tracks that separated the town from the industrial area south of the neighborhood. As he landed, Rick lost his grip on the cell phone and dropped it.
“Damn!” He stopped short and scooped the phone off the seat. When he looked back up, Jeff Morris was gone. All that lied ahead was a group of blocks covered with live-in trailers.
“I lost him!”
“You did?”
Rick looked back and forth in the intersection. Then his attention focused west.
“Craig, what’s west on Thirteenth?”
“Thirteenth? Nothing but the old airplane hangars and some old houses.”
Rick’s mind screamed at the answer. The southwest part of town consisted of old abandoned airplane hangars that were used by the Canadian Air Force decades ago. It was so run down and useless that it was forgotten about except by a few owners in town, who used the hangars to store things or turn into a car repair shop. It was a perfect area for the killer to bring his prey.
“Craig, get your ass over here now. I think we’ve found our guy.” Rick snapped the phone shut and drove along Thirteenth Street and into the area where the hangars lay. There were a half dozen of the old abandoned hangars that could have held the killer’s lair. Danbury knew that time was running out and he needed to find the right one before Jeff Morris slipped away, free to kill yet again.
Rick stopped the car and thought. Looking over each hangar, he relied on his gut to help him choose. And once he set his eyes on the fifth hangar, he knew. He jumped out of the car and pulled his gun. Creeping slowly to the chosen hangar, he listened to the quietness for any unexpected surprises.
Once he reached the door to the hangar, Rick took a deep breath and took hold of the handle. Then he pulled the door open and rushed in, staying low to the ground in case of gunfire. But there was none. The hangar was empty of anyone breathing. Danbury stood up and took in the set up of the hangar.
There were jars covering a line of shelves that ran across the entire hangar. Inside some of the jars were items belonging to the victims; a necklace here, a piece of underwear there. But the jars were not the most disturbing in the hangar. Danbury had found the sixth victim strung up by wires attached to the wrists and ankles.
Then everything went black.
* * *
Craig sped down Thirteenth Street in hopes that he was not too late in backing up Rick in catching the killer. He jumped out of his chair the moment Danbury hung up on him. Was Jeff Morris the killer? How did Rick know? Craig knew he wasn’t the smartest man in the world, but around Rick he felt moronic. Being sheriff, Anthony Craig was hired to keep crime down in the small town of Fort Macleod. But in the last week, he had lost five people. That was not the way things were supposed to happen. And the fact that Rick had made him look even more incompetent turned the situation worse. He had failed the town as their protector. But he would at least help in bringing down the killer.
Ten minutes later, Craig pulled up to the lonely car that belonged to Detective Rick Danbury. He stepped out and looked around, listening for anything that would help him locate Rick.
“C’mon Rick, tell me where you are,” Craig mumbled, walking slowly and carefully around each hangar that stood lifeless inside. His hand on the butt of his gun, he walked past each one listening for a struggle or Rick’s voice. He couldn’t hear anything but the whoosh of the wind coming from the mountains in the west.
“No wonder I don’t patrol out here every day,” he said to himself. The silence was unnerving to say the least. And the lack of knowing where Danbury was made him tense up.
Craig walked up to the fourth hangar and saw the light coming from inside through the doorway. He removed his gun and took steps towards the door. Once he was two feet from the door, Craig took a deep breath and sucked up all his courage. It was now or never. Craig rushed forward, into the hangar and held his gun out at arm’s length, ready to fire it at anyone who came at him. But instead, Craig saw something that he would never forget, in all his days as sheriff.
“Oh my God!”
TO BE CONTINUED…..
Part Five
By Sean Lennon
Sheriff Anthony Craig stood in front of the pure white door, peering inside the pale white room at the man who had killed several people in the town of Fort Macleod. It was six days since the capture of the Fort Macleod serial killer and Craig had been called in to give a statement on the man he now looked upon.
Captain Tom Hancock walked down the white hall of the Calgary Mental Health Center to where Craig stood. Hancock had heard from Craig two days ago and immediately booked a flight to help clean up what had happened. He stood, hunched from years of leaning over his desk back in Montreal, working on cases. Now, he slouched in sorrow.
“Sheriff Craig?”
Craig looked away from the small window and finally noticed Hancock, now standing beside him. Hancock then saw just how much of a toll the case he was told about had affected Craig. There were dark bags under Craig’s eyes and his face appeared longer than it normally had. Craig had not slept in days.
“Captain Hancock? Good to meet you.” Craig held out his hand and the captain shook it.
“I got here as fast I could,” Hancock told him, “Still can’t believe what happened to Rick.”
“It’s not something I was looking forward to walking into,” Craig replied, his eyes looking off into space.
“He was a good cop. My best man on the force. Had I known this was going to happen to him, I would have tried my best to keep him back in Montreal.”
“It was obvious how dedicated he was to his cases. I watched him lose sleep trying to figure out who killed those people. I never thought it would end like it did. I was proud to have worked with him.”
Hancock paused and peered into the window that Craig was glued to. Inside, the killer sat, drugged and calm.
“Have the doctors figured out his motive yet?” the captain asked.
“No, they were going to talk to me about him and what happened out in the hangar. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes now.”
“Well, I must say that this is a rather large building. They must have hundreds of patients in here.”
“I’d rather get back to Macleod. I don’t want my men left alone for too long.”
“I know how you feel. Town isn’t safe unless you’re helping to look over it.”
“Yeah. And I just want to forget this ever happened.”
Hancock’s attention was diverted to the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to find two men in long lab coats and clipboards walking towards him and Craig. The first man was older and wore glasses while the second was in the middle of growing a beard. Hancock figured it was in order to make him appear more intellectual. The older man smiled and nodded at the two men standing in front of the door. He glanced at his clipboard and read something.
“Are one of you gentlemen, Sheriff Craig?” the older man asked.
“I’m the sheriff,” Craig answered, “This is Captain Hancock from Montreal.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry to meet you on such a disturbing situation.” The older man shook Hancock’s hand and turned back to Craig. “We’re ready to hear your side of the incident, if you are?”
Craig nodded and looked over at Captain Hancock. Hancock knew what Craig was going to ask. He nodded in response and patted Craig’s shoulder. Craig then followed the two doctors back down the hall to a room with wide windows that looked out to the garden decorating a side of the Center. Beyond the garden, Craig could see the far off wooden area that blocked the view of the neighborhood nearby.
“Please have a seat, Sheriff,” the older man said, pointing to one of the chairs at the long wooden table in the center of the near empty room. Craig took a chair by the end of the table and sat down.
“Now, let’s start with what happened at the hangar the night you closed the case of the serial murders.”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“Just tell us the series of events that occurred that night. In your words.” The bearded doctor removed a pen from his shirt pocket and prepared to take notes on his clipboard. Craig took a deep breath and flashback to the night he so desperately wanted to block from his mind.
“I went to the hangars because Detective Danbury reported that he was chasing a suspect in the case there. I immediately drove there to help him with backup. That and I was curious as to whether or not the suspect really was the killer.”
“And was the suspect the killer?”
“No. But you know that, don’t you?”
“It’s not for us to know, Sheriff. Please continue,” the older doctor responded.
“I walked past a few hangar but stopped when I saw that one had the door open and lights on inside. That’s when I went inside and Detective Danbury and the killer.”
“And what exactly did you see? Where was the patient?”
“He was standing over the body. There was blood on his face and hands.”
“And this was proof that the patient was the killer of the others?”
“Well, anyone with a skinning knife in one hand and someone else’s heart in the other is a damn good suspect in a serial murder case.”
“So the patient had murdered another?”
“Yes. The body was at his feet.”
“And then what happened?” the older doctor said to continue the tale and prevent from being digressed again.
“Well, knowing the patient,” Craig said with sarcasm, “I holstered my gun and asked him what he was doing.”
“And did the patient respond to your question?”
“No, he just looked at me.”
“And then?”
“I told him to put the knife down. Of course, he didn’t listen. He finally moved and lunged at me.”
“And this is when you shot the patient?”
“No, I couldn’t bring myself to shoot him right then. I tried fighting him off and getting him to talk to me. We fell to the floor and he tried stabbing me with the knife but I was strong enough to keep him from doing so.”
“So once you were able to wrestle the weapon from him, what occurred next?”
“I pushed him back and asked why he did what he did. But he was in a daze. He never answered. It was like he wasn’t even the same person.”
“Well, in cases like this, most patients aren’t. Multiple personalities are manifested due to traumatic experiences or events. Given the background we’ve received so far, the event was that which occurred two weeks prior to the findings of the first three bodies.”
Craig stopped short in train of thought and went over what the older doctor had just told him. It all made sense then. The motive came into view. No one had thought twice about what had happened to the killer the day Rick Danbury arrived in town. They were all just weary about what the new detective meant to the small town to focus on the other problem.
“Sheriff Craig? Are you all right?” the bearded doctor said, trying to snap him out of the zone he had fallen into. Craig looked up and returned to the room that he was currently sitting in.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, wiping the tiredness from his eyes. He then took a deep breath and continued for the two doctors.
“So when was that you shot the patient?”
“I managed to pull the knife out of his hands and pushed him back against the far wall. He fell down to the ground and I found some time to recover from what I walked into. But then so did he. He found his gun and brought it up to shoot me. So I reached for mine in self-defense and shot him in his gun arm. That made him drop the gun and jumped him, knocking him out with the butt of my gun.”
“I see. Now Sheriff, was there any sign that the patient was the killer?”
“No, I had no idea it was him. For as long as I knew him, he had always been looking out for the people in the town. There was no sign that I had seen that would have made me think he was the killer. I was hoping you could help me to understand how he could have killed those people.”
“Well, everything you’ve told us just now, coincides with the symptoms the patient has suffered from. This event, which we are finally pinpointing, seemed to have changed the patient so much that he was unable to deal with it properly like most people do. The inability then shocked his system to the point that he needed outside help in adjusting to it. The lack of outside help then forced him to look inward, creating this other personality. And through the new personality he was able to get over his shock and find newfound purpose to his life.”
“I see,” Craig said. As he listened to the older doctor, his mind connected the dots. The knowledge of using a skinning knife was taught to the killer through his job. The lack of evidence was also job related. And the links to the suspects were actually just coincidences all along. Never in the entire investigation would Craig have thought one of his own would be the one killing the people of his town.
“Again, I must apologize to you for what you have gone through. It’s always tough for someone to be dealt with such news,” the older doctor said to him.
“Thank you,” Craig replied, “Are we, are we through?”
“I think so. We’ve gotten a good amount of history on the patient. If there is anything that comes to mind, please call me.” The older doctor pulled his card from his pocket and handed it to Craig. Craig took it and placed it in his back pocket.
“Could you contact me if anything happens to him?”
“Of course. I understand.”
Craig left the room and walked back down the hall to where Captain Hancock stood watch over the killer. Craig informed Hancock about what he had learned during the inquiry.
“I guess I’ll follow you to town to retrieve Rick’s things. I think he’d prefer I bring his things back to Montreal. He always did favor the wild city to the quiet small towns. That’s why he moved from his hometown, Newfoundland. He was born a city boy.” Craig smirked at the comment.
“I could tell. He was very sarcastic with some of the people during the investigation. I just thought it was attitude. Guess I was wrong.”
“Don’t let it get to you. It happens to us all. Hell, I was even wrong about him. Just so happens that he was right about the case that got him booted over to you. Two weeks after he was transferred, Ralph Connell, the premier’s son was caught murdering another prostitute. If I hadn’t been so stubborn in telling him that I was wrong to have doubted him, he wouldn’t have been there that night.”
“You didn’t know as much as I didn’t. We can’t really blame anyone for this.”
“Yes, we can. Premier Connell knew about his son. He sent Rick away because he was getting close to the truth that the Premier was trying to hide. Connell was worried that if his son were outed as a woman killer, he’d be thrown out of his position. He’s the one to blame for all this.”
“Damn.” Craig chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head.
“I’m ready when you are,” Hancock told him.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” he replied. Hancock understood and walked off towards the parking lot. Craig remained alone in the hall, standing in front of the door that opened into the padded room that contained the Fort Macleod killer. He placed his hand on the steel side of the door and hoped that the man inside heard what he had to say to him.
“Goodbye friend. May the Lord have mercy on your soul.” Then Sheriff Anthony Craig removed his hand and walked away from the room that held Detective Rick Danbury.
THE END