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There wasn’t much sound in the house, the tv in the living room, and his scratching. It seemed to him that Mrs. Peach wasn’t very forthcoming with answers, and that Olivia had to pull the information out of her. Once more, Les wondered at that.
The little girl, Jane, came into the kitchen.
“I’m hungry mommy.” She said.
“Sure honey, give me a minute.” Liza said and sent her daughter into the living room.
“Is this going to take much longer? I wasn’t here when it happened, so I really don’t know what he did while I was gone.” She asked.
“No, I think we have what we need. If you think of anything, please let me know. I’ll leave you my card.” Olivia smiled and got up. Les stood as well and followed the detective out of the house. Once they got into the car, he spoke.
“Is it me, or did she not look or act very broken up about her husband’s death?”
“Some people handle grief differently, but no, she didn’t seem upset at all. She answered the questions, but almost seemed indifferent.”
“You think she might have had a hand in the murder?” Les asked.
“No, at least I don’t think so.” Olivia said, pulling out onto the street.
“Maybe a killer for hire? Hire some guy, who kills a specific way? Or maybe a copycat?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll keep that in mind on the back burner as we go forward. Maybe she just didn’t love her husband, and when he was killed, it didn’t upset her as it might have.” Olivia said and shrugged.
Les thought that might well be true. He was sure Ed wasn’t broken up about Rachael dying. He almost snorted but restrained himself, it would be hard to explain that to Olivia.
“Will you get security footage from the bars? You know, to check and see if Roger Peach was at either one?”
“Yeah, we’ll get a warrant and see what we can see, but first, I’ll call and see if we can stop by and have a friendly chit chat at the bars.” Olivia said.
They were only about ten miles from each of the bars, so Les looked out the window and watched the houses pass by. He thought about Liza’s face, there was simply no grief there and he really didn’t think it was because she was in shock. The woman had smiled at her daughter and he’d seen the emotion there. But when it came to her dead husband, there was nothing. He wondered if Mrs. Peach had a lover on the side.
Twenty minutes later found them at Fast Jack’s bar. They walked in, and saw that there were a few patrons in the early afternoon. Some sports channel was going on the tv screens scattered about the bar.
“Is your manager or supervisor here?” Olivia asked the bartender, showing her badge.
“Sure, one moment and let me get her.” The bartender said and turned to go to the back. A few minutes later, a middle age woman came out. She walked up to Olivia, a questioning look in her eyes.
“Hi, I’m Detective Shin, from Charleston PD, I wanted to ask a couple questions about a patron that might have been here, last month. Is there somewhere where we can speak?”
“Hi, I’m Barbara. Sure, come on back to my office.” And the woman turned and led the way.
Les stood back as the women went into the small office and he stood by the door. The scent of hops permeated the establishment, with undertones of chicken wings. His stomach grumbled. He hoped the women hadn’t heard it.
“We’re investigating a murder that happened last month. We think a man, Roger Peach, visited your establishment on the night of August first or early morning of August 2nd. Does your place have security cameras and does it hold onto the recordings?”
“The name doesn’t sound familiar, and we do have cameras, but the files are deleted every two weeks. I’m really sorry. Do you have a picture of this guy?” Barbara asked.
“Sure do, here.” Olivia said and handed over the driver’s license photo, blown up. The woman took it and looked at it, biting her lower lip. She shook her head slowly.
“No, sorry, but I can show it to my bartenders and see if it rings a bell.” She offered.
“That would be great. On the back is my cell number. Can you ask if they did see this man, if he got into any kind of altercation with anyone? Any disagreements, anything. Maybe ask some of your patrons as well.” Olivia suggested.
“I sure can. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help.” Barbara said and stood. Olivia reached over and shook the other woman’s hand and she and Les left the office and headed back out to the bar and then out to the car. On their way out, Les looked around the bar and noted the cameras.
“Well that led nowhere.” Les said, a little crestfallen.
“That’s how it usually goes. We’ll head over to the Piano Bar, but I doubt we’ll have any luck there as well. But we can circulate the picture.” She said.
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Jasper sat outside the ranch house of the pea green Ford. It was 10:30pm and he watched the house. He saw the man walking through the house. Jasper flexed his arms. His forearms were massive, he likened them to Popeye’s forearms, large and powerful. Quite capable of putting an asshole in his place.
“Mister pea green car, mister die hard. What are you doing now? Sleeping? Peeping? Better not be creeping.” He said softly, his knuckles cracking. Push me, pull you, said his constant companion.
He saw a woman pass the window and saw the lights begin to turn off. Jasper waited fifteen more minutes and turned on his car and headed home. Mister pea green Ford was going to bed. No hammer in his head. We’ll fix that, now won’t we? We’ll make a paste, and not in haste.
“I’ll take my time but I won’t be kind Mr. Pea Green Ford.” He said aloud.
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Detective Shin sat at her desk, Les had typed up his notes and thoughts. The man had a keen mind. She was impressed that he’d picked up on Mrs. Peach’s ambivalence to her husband’s murder. That had set off a soft alarm bell in Olivia’s brain. Not loud, but it was enough to get her attention. Les had a solid idea about a hired killer. What if Mrs. Peach hired someone, who’d been hired by the nine other women? Could that be possible? Put that idea on the back burner.
She would not discount the idea by any means, but the rage in the killings said that it was something personal to the killer. The killer had known his victims, for how long, she didn’t know. She’d seen a lot of murders, but most were for personal gain of some kind. Mostly for money. Were these men gamblers? Did they owe someone and fail to pay?
There were so many possibilities. She couldn’t become mired down in conjecture. She had to follow the evidence and things they knew. Which, for this case, wasn’t a whole hell of a lot.
She and Les would head out today, to interview Samuel Anderson’s widow, June Anderson. Olivia checked the file, they had two sons, Mike seven and Ted, six. Samuel was killed on the 12th of May. She looked up at the knock on her door.
“In.” she called out.
Les stuck his head in and smiled.
“Hey Les, come on in.” She said.
“Hey, any word from either of the bars on East Bay?” He asked sitting down.
“Yes, and no. No one recognized Peach. So, a bust on that front. We’ll be heading out shortly to see Mrs. June Anderson. Her husband was killed earlier this year, in May.”
“Now what about the witness of the Peach murder, the neighbor? The one that heard the killer screaming?” Les asked, looking at his notes.
“Yes, Prudence Weatherby, she’s seventy-eight and had asked that she be allowed to come to the office. She didn’t want the police showing up at her house. She’ll be here tomorrow morning, she said it was the only time she could make it.” Olivia said, smiling. The woman had been very insistent that she wanted no police at her home.
“Do you think she saw anything?” Les asked.
“No, but she did hear something, and I’d like to hear what she has to say. It more than likely won’t help, but I want to make sure I look over everything twice.”
“Why didn’t you ask Mrs. Peach if her husband was a bigot?” Les asked.
“That bit of information about what the killer said is off the record. I didn’t want to bring it up to the wife.” Olivia said.
“Okay, got it.” Les smiled at her.
“Ready to go?” Olivia asked and at his nod, they left her office and headed out to interview Mrs. Anderson.
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It had been an interesting interview, Les thought, as he wrote the next article. June Anderson had been a nervous woman and her children clung to each other while they watched their mother’s interview. The boys appeared to Les, almost shell-shocked. His heart broke when he observed the two boys surreptitiously. The older, Mike, he thought, had his arm around his younger brother. He was protective. Les hoped the children hadn’t seen their father.
It would have scarred them for life. As it was now, he could see the children had not gotten over their father’s murder. He couldn’t imagine having a father ripped away like that. Donovan wasn’t the greatest father a kid could have, but he was there. A constant in their home and their lives. These children had lost that continuity. They were afloat and with a nervous mother, he was sure their lives weren’t calm.
He wondered at her nervousness and again, the thought of murder for hire went through his mind. For some reason, that thought kept coming back to him. He didn’t know why, it was just a hunch. He’d also brought it up to Olivia. She’d agreed that the woman was nervous.
“Do you think she’s hiding anything?” Les had asked on their way back to the precinct. It was a niggling feeling. Something didn’t add up. He was sure he was just paranoid. They’d checked out the bar on King street that June Anderson had said her husband had been at. It had been the same story as the other bars. No one remembered. No security footage. No surprise. He’d already viewed the other files and knew that all the other bars would be a dead end.
The farther back they investigated, the less information would be out there. Especially for the first murders. Les thought their best hope was these last three killings. They were the freshest. They had the potential to lead the detective someplace with the right answers.
“I don’t think so, she just about vomited anything she could think of. She didn’t look high or anything, so no drugs. I think she’s just high strung. But again, I’ll keep the notion of the killer for hire on that back burner.” She’d said.
Les liked that Olivia listened to his suggestions and didn’t shrug them off. He knew he was an outsider here, but she’d treated him with respect and he liked that. He’d not expected it from any police officer.
The Anderson’s home had been a cookie cutter home, like all the others in the neighborhood. It was located in a low to middle class neighborhood. Nothing remarkable about the area, neat little houses and sometimes rundown homes that lined the tree sprinkled streets. Lots of children ran around the neighborhood, that Les could see. The house itself was neat and orderly on the inside. The furniture wasn’t expensive, and it was old. What bothered Les was the two boys.
The two boys looked fearful, but why? He underlined the question in his notes. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. He set his notes aside and turned on the tv. He’d watch a little nature or something to bring him down from his brain dazing speculation. He was tired and his brain hurt.
He didn’t see how Olivia and the other detectives did it. He guessed it was because he was used to instant gratification. There was nothing instant about this case, this grizzly, horrible case. He admired the detectives for their dedication, not only for this one case, but for all others. He knew the rate of solving crimes wasn’t as high as people thought. But these people kept at it. They didn’t give up, and he was glad.
Les yawned, the nature program was having the desired effect. He felt his body relax and the day’s tension begin to melt away. He yawned again. He’d take a shower and hit the sack and go at it again tomorrow. They were going to interview Mrs. Weatherby. That should be interesting, he thought.
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Olivia sat with her girls, they were watching a movie. They had a large bowl of popcorn, and Jeff was out with his friends. They were at a bar, watching some god-awful sports event. She thought sports bars were the greatest invention ever. She hated watching sports on tv. She never understood it, nor did she care to. These nights were spent with the girls, watching girly movies and eating popcorn and ice cream. What could be better?
Even grown up Charlotte was happy and lovey dovey. She had her head in Olivia’s lap, and Olivia ran her fingers through the dark locks of hair. Gail was on her other side, practically up under Olivia’s rump. She felt like a mother hen, sitting on a chick. She looked down at her daughter. Gail had her blanket, her thumb hovering over her lips. Gail had stopped sucking her thumb finally last year.
Sometimes, however, she relapsed, but a gentle reminder, helped. She saw that Gail’s eyes were sleepy and she smiled down at her daughter. She was a lightweight. She then looked down at Charlotte and noticed that she too was sleepy eyed. It was early yet, but she decided to go ahead and get them to bed.
“Okay girls, bedtime.”
“Moooommmmm.” They groaned in unison. Olivia grinned and clicked the movie off.
“Don’t worry, we’ll pick this movie up another time. You’ve seen it a dozen times at least. Come on my lovelies, let’s get ready and I’ll read you more of Charlotte’s Web.” She laughed when the girls squealed with glee.
Her eldest had loved the story for years and had wept each time Charlotte, the spider, had died. Now Gail took up the mantle and loved hearing the story as much. It was their special time. The girls rarely lasted an hour before they passed out. She was privy to the interlocutors as they giggled in the bathroom. She liked to stand outside the door, listening.
She thought that perhaps Charlotte treated Gail rough, but listing now, she could hear the love in the big sister’s voice as she helped the younger. It made her heart swell with pride. It was a girl thing, she guessed.
Early tomorrow she would be interviewing Mrs. Weatherby, she hoped they’d glean some kind of insight. This case bothered her on so many levels. The brutality of it, the seemingly randomness of it and most worrisome was the upsurge of killings. She lived in fear of a fresh one. She hoped Jeff got home in a while. She’d told him to call on his way home. She’d wait by the door for him. This had really spooked her.
Jeff had not brushed her off. He was good that way. He listened to his wife’s worry and concern. She was glad he did. She turned away and went to the girl’s room and collected the prized book. Then she’d wait for Jeff’s return.
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Jasper once more sat outside of the ranch home, with the pea green Ford. He’d eaten a bean burrito earlier and now had the ripping farts. He lifted his butt cheek from time to time, letting out a staccato of rapid-fire farts. I need to lay off that shit, I’m killing myself in this car. I’m gassing myself, exterminating myself. They’ll find my dead body, and I’ve business to do. Maybe the apple juice and licorice were a little too much, he thought, and cracked the window of the car.
He watched inside as the man walked back and forth, he seemed agitated to Jasper. His body language said so, not to mention that he was pulling at his hair. He wondered what was going on in the man’s little world. Not much after a time. Not much longer.
“I’ve got something to calm you down. Calm you down into the ground.” Jasper laughed, his hands grasping the steering wheel and his knuckles popped as he tightened his grip. The man disappeared from the windows. Jasper looked at his clock on the car’s dash, near midnight. The lights began to turn off in the house, one room at a time. Jasper lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. He waited a little longer, then he pulled away.
“Bye bye, Mr. Pea Green Ford, I’ll see you soon.” Jasper crooned.
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The article that Les wrote was a short one. He mentioned Olivia’s hard work and the endless search for information and clues. He expounded on all of the detective’s devotion to this investigation. He wrote that the families were holding together under a difficult time and tremendous stress. He’d passed it by Detective Skilter and it was approved. He sat in his office, looking once more through his notes. Today he’d sit in with Mrs. Weatherby and see what she had to say about Mr. Peach.
Ross stuck his head into the office.
“Hey Ross, what’s up?”
“Just checking to see how it’s going?” Ross smiled.
“Jesus Ross, this thing is a mess, a living damn nightmare. I don’t know how these detectives deal with it. Nothing, no clues and they have to find this crazy bastard, because you know he’s gonna kill again.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t pay me to be a cop. I don’t think I could take it. I’ve covered a few murders in my time, and I’ll be honest, some still haunt me. I wake up with nightmares about some of them. I don’t see how the detectives sleep at night.” He said, shaking his head. Les saw that Ross’s hair was spiked up all over the place. But at least Ross had a full and thick head of hair.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Looking at all the crime scene photos has given me nightmares. I’m not kidding. I wake up in a cold sweat. Jesus.” Les said shaking his head.
“Yeah, been there and done that. But you are lucky in one way, at least there are no dead kids. Man, those are the worst, those, you never get over. Nobody ever gets over those. Well, the articles are good. Let me know if you need anything.” Ross said.
“Sure thing. I’m heading over in a bit, there is a witness who heard something, and she’s going to be re-interviewed.” Les said.
“Okay, just let me know what you need.” He said and disappeared. He stared at the door. He’d not known that about Ross. Ross had run the paper for many years, and hadn’t been out as a reporter in well over twenty years.
He’d known that Ross had started out on the street, but he’d forgotten. He’d have to pick Ross’s brain once this was all done. It might help with the book he wanted to write.
Les packed up his notes and headed out. He was interested to see what this old lady had heard. It only took twenty minutes to get to the CPD building and he headed into the offices. He nodded to several of the detectives and officers, they were getting used to seeing him there. He swung by Olivia’s office and knocked on her door.
