Breaking News, page 5
“In.” he heard her voice and smiled. He was getting to know Olivia, she was a no-nonsense detective, but wasn’t rude or abrupt about it. He liked that. Police notoriously were on the opposite side of the street with reporters. They didn’t like them and Les understood why, especially after working with Rachael Weaver for fifteen years.
“Hey Olivia, how are you today?” Les asked, sitting down.
“I guess I’ll do. Mrs. Weatherby is here and we’ll be heading in to interview her in a minute.”
“Do you think she’ll have any light to shed on that night?”
“Honestly, I’m not hopeful. But I want to cross our Ts and make sure we follow through.” She shrugged.
He watched as she typed for a few more minutes on her computer, then she closed a folder and stood. He did as well and opened the door for her and they went down to one of the many interrogation rooms. He noticed today she was wearing a skirt, she looked very nice. He was used to seeing her in slacks.
Olivia opened the door, and Les saw around her. Seated at the table was a tiny bird of a woman. She had to be four foot nothing, and thin. Les was afraid if he closed the door too fast, the breeze of it would knock the woman from her seat. She had deep mahogany skin and hair that was as white as new snow. She sat ramrod straight in the chair, the table nearly up to her thin chest. She had white gloves on and wore a purple flowered dress with black flats.
He somehow liked that little old ladies wore white gloves. It lent to a more genteel time, though those times were also coarse and rough. But a southern lady was always genteel. Or at least he’d heard that. This woman was, she had an air of simple pride.
Les hid a smile, she was very dignified and looked all the sweeter for it. She smiled at him and he nodded and returned the smile. He stood by the door, as Olivia took the seat across from the elderly woman.
“Thank you so much Mrs. Weatherby, for coming by. I hope that we didn’t inconvenience you much. I’m Detective Shin and this is Les, he’s helping us with this case.” Olivia offered.
“Well, I try to do my civic duty. Detective. I did tell the other detective that awful day, what I had heard.” Prudence Weatherby said, her voice strong.
“Yes mam, and we want to simply follow up and speak with you about it.”
“Alright, well, I was sleeping, but I had my windows open. Most folks have that air conditioning on. I do too during the day, but sometimes I just get too cold. So, I leave my windows open.” She said, nodding her head.
“Yes, mam.”
“So, anyhow, I heard this ruckus, a man was screaming, and Lord have mercy, it scared me to death. I got out of bed, and went to the window, that was on the side of my home. I heard this horrible voice, it was deep and gravelly. Like someone screaming with rocks in their mouth.” She said, shaking her head. Her gloved hands were clasped to her narrow bosom.
“Yes mam, so the man who was screaming the words, and it was, you hate niggers? Over and over?”
“Yes, it was just awful, and the rage. My goodness, the rage in that awful voice. I’ll tell you this, the hair stood up all over my body. It did. I couldn’t move from that window.”
“Do you know how long it went on?” Olivia asked, making notations in the file.
“Maybe a minute, not much past that, but it seemed like forever. Then it was quiet. I stood listening, and I wondered, if I should go out. But I was too afraid. That voice was so hateful. I didn’t hear anything else. Just the night noises. Then maybe about five or ten minutes later, I heard a car, but I didn’t see it. Then I went and called the police. But I was too afraid to go out.” She said, her head nodding back and forth.
“Mrs. Weatherby, was Mr. Peach prejudiced do you know? Had he ever said anything to you?” Olivia asked.
Prudence Weatherby snorted, un-lady like and a derisive smile crossed her mouth.
“Roger Peach was a bastard. I’m a church going woman, but I’ll tell you, he was. When I would be out in my yard, tending my roses and flowers, he’d come over and ask me, why don’t you move away, you old nigger lady? You know you ain’t wanted here. I never answered him of course, I’d not let that garbage get his way. I felt sorry for his wife and that sweet little girl, Janey. I’d hear some awful fights going on. But there was nothing I could do.” She said, sorrow in her voice.
“So, Mr. Peach was a bigot? And he and his wife didn’t’ get along?” Olivia asked, her head cocked to the side.
“Oh, that boy was rotten to the core. I can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone. He probably made the wrong man angry, maybe he called the wrong man nigger. Maybe a black man, because that man that was screaming, kept saying it over and over.”
“Thank you so much for coming in. This really does help us. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Oh no, but thank you. I’m glad to do it and I’m glad that the family is free of that garbage.” She smiled. Les stepped forward and pulled the older woman’s chair out and assisted her. He opened the door and murmured his thanks as well. He looked over to Olivia, his brows high in question.
“That was interesting.” He said.
“Yes, it was. Mr. Peach had a big mouth it would seem and it sounds like he pissed the wrong man off.”
“Do you think now, that perhaps our killer could in fact be black?” Les asked.
“I don’t know. The killer could very well be a black male. From what Mrs. Weatherby said, in regard to Mr. Peach’s bad behavior, combined with his lack of caution, in his verbal abuse to others? I’d have to say that I agree with Mrs. Weatherby, Mr. Peach may well have said something to the wrong man it would seem. I don’t think Mr. Peach was a nice man, nor a very smart one. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was also a coward, to speak to an old woman like that. And, I’d say, a bully as well. One usually goes hand in hand with the other. I’ll contact June Anderson and question her, and ascertain if her husband had any run-ins with black males. And see if he might have been a little bigoted.” She said, gathering the file.
“So, I’d say it’s a fifty, fifty chance, our killer might well be a black male.”
“So, it would seem. Nevertheless, we did learn something new. The killer’s voice is deep and has a gravelly pitch to it. That wasn’t in the initial report before. The hate and rage Mrs. Weatherby mentioned follows with the brutality of the homicides. It’s a shame Mrs. Weatherby is our only witness and really, only one that heard something, and not seen anything. A visual would have helped a great deal. Correspondingly, the murderer spent time in the area after killing Mr. Peach. Mrs. Weatherby said she heard a car perhaps ten minutes later. What was the killer doing for that ten minutes?” Olivia speculated.
“Maybe pulling the tooth out? Or maybe looking around the house? Jesus, do you think he went in?” Les asked, and shivered a little. Christ, he’d hate to think of that monster inside the house. Les was glad that Mrs. Peach and her daughter were away from the home during the murder.
“No, because the car and house keys were in Mr. Peach’s pocket and the house was locked up when the police patrol arrived on scene. I can talk to my husband about the time it takes pulling a tooth out. But with all the teeth that the killer knocked out, it would be simple as just picking one of them up off the ground.”
“Your husband is a dentist?” Les asked.
“No, he’s an orthodontist, but he’ll know all the same.”
“So, what is next?”
“We’ll interview Robert Patterson’s widow, Riva. Then Mr. Patterson’s poker buddies he was with that night. We’ll get a better pinpoint on the time, since Mr. Patterson was killed around 3am, and the detective’s notes indicate that the poker game ended just after midnight. I want to know where Mr. Patterson was between midnight and 3am. That is a three-hour window. There is a big question mark there.” Olivia said.
“That’s a big gap in time. I wonder if Mr. Patterson went to a bar, or to some girl on the side?” Les speculated, nibbling on his lower lip.
“I don’t know. But I’m hoping one of the men from the poker game might know. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that Mr. Patterson had a woman on the side. Maybe that was where the killer found him and followed him home?”
Les walked with Olivia back to the task room. Littleton was there working, his coat off and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Littleton’s short brown hair was sticking up, as though he’d pulled at it in frustration. The detective had several stacks of files. Les could well understand the detective’s frustration.
Les walked over to get coffee. He needed a jolt of caffeine. It was all mind numbing, the searching and looking and not coming up with a whole heck of a lot. Though, it was interesting about Mrs. Weatherby’s description of the killer’s voice. Deep and gravelly. Mrs. Weatherby had also said, that the sound of it made the hair stand up. Interesting. Les wondered why no one else in the neighborhood had heard the commotion. Did closed windows keep out that much noise or did the other neighbors not want to get involved?
It wasn’t unheard of. Many people kept quiet, even though they could help solve a crime. Fear is what held them back and sometimes peer pressure. He’d seen it over and over in his career. He would have hoped that perhaps someone would call with an anonymous tip, but no. Frustration filled him. He knew it had to hit Olivia as well. They were getting nowhere quick.
He looked around the room, papers, notes, files and photographs scattered about. The murder books were opened. The man hours spent on these homicides was staggering. It was no wonder that Chief Skilter had set up this task force. Even so, just the short time that Les had been involved with it, he could see that they were up against a proficient killer.
FOUR
Les looked up from his computer, Mary Beth stuck her head in. He smiled at her, sitting back in his chair.
“Hey Les, just stopping to say hi. How have you been? I’ve not seen you much.” She asked, a soft smile spreading across her face.
“Good, really good. How about you? I take it Ross is keeping you busy?” He grinned, his eye brows waggling.
“Well, I keep Ross busy.” She laughed.
“How is it going with the task force?” She continued.
“This task force thing has really been an eye-opening experience. I have to take my hat off to the detectives. It is mind boggling how they do their job. There isn’t much evidence, but little by little, they put the pieces together.”
“Well, it sure has been interesting reading your articles. You’re doing a great job, Ross thinks so anyway.” She smiled at him, a slight blush tinting her light brown skin. Les grinned.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it. I just wanted to pop by to say hello.” She said and closed the door. He liked Mary Beth a lot, she was a sweet woman, and he knew she liked him. Perhaps more than she should. He’d never ask her out though. For one, you didn’t do that with people you worked with, and for the other, well, after Val, there were no other women for him. He’d loved her very much. Heck, he still loved her, if he were honest with himself. But in so loving her, he let her go, to find her own happiness.
Les also knew that he sucked at relationships. He’d not put another woman through that. Especially not one he liked, and cared for. He thought about his mother and decided to call her. Picking up his phone, he called.
“Hey mom. It’s me. Just calling to see how you and Aunt Patty are doing.”
“Hello Les, how are you doing honey? And your Aunt Patty says hello, she’s right beside me. She is good, and same as me. We’re out at the pool, getting some sun.”
“Don’t burn mom, you know about skin cancer.” He warned, unnecessarily. He always worried though.
“Yes honey, your aunt and I are all greased up like a piggy on a griddle. We’re sizzling.” She laughed and Les snorted. Always the same. He shook his head.
“Mom, I wanted to ask you something, but I’m not sure on how to ask it.”
“Well, just ask honey. What is it?”
“Donovan. Was he as bad as I thought, mom? I mean, I was a kid when he left. My memories aren’t that good of him.”
“Honey, Donovan wanted to be a good man. He did. He was an honest man and worked hard. But he had so much pride, he was his own worst enemy. And he tried to be successful, but he got in his own way. He took it out on us. Not always though and not all the time. I think he hurt inside, a lot.”
“Mom, why didn’t you leave him?” Les asked, that question had always burned inside of him. He wanted to know, to understand why she’d stayed with him. It was hard for him to understand, but you never knew about other people and their relationships. Especially between your parents.
“I don’t know. I did love Donovan, he was a good man at heart or at least tried to be. My education didn’t lend itself to any kind of a job that would support us. And, I was afraid that Donovan might do something worse if I did take you and leave. There were good times, but I think that the bad times, just kind of outweighed the good. He honestly loved you. He was so proud of you. But he was a product of his own upbringing. His own father had beaten him as well. It was all he knew. I know that isn’t a reason, but that was just how it was. I’m sorry I let you down honey. I was a weak woman. It was my fault I know.” She said, her voice low and filled with pain and guilt.
“I know you did the best you could mom. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to understand. Being a kid, you don’t always see things clearly and also, a kid’s memories and perspectives aren’t always accurate. I do remember some of the good times mom. I do. I guess I just wondered if Donovan even cared about us. I always wanted him to be proud of me, but he was such a hard man. Again, mom, I didn’t want to upset you. But I was just wondering.”
“It’s okay honey. I guess I didn’t say it enough, you know, that I was sorry for what all that happened.”
“Don’t worry mom, you’re safe with Aunt Patty and I’m here and doing good at my job.” He said.
“Alright dear. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I have to go mom. I love you.”
“I love you too baby.”
He disconnected. He sat back in his chair. He wondered, he did remember a few good times, like when Donovan took him fishing and had also taken him for the day on the shrimp boat, from time to time. That was why he loved shrimp boats he guessed. But his mother was right. Donovan tried hard, but had failed as a husband and a father. A small part of his heart loved Donovan, and had wanted his stepfather’s approval.
Les knew very well, that the older generation was not that kind to their children, on the whole. Heck, he guessed it was the same no matter what generation. Even today there was abuse and neglect, and of course throughout history. Though Les speculated that with each generation, things got better in some aspects and not much in others. Parenting was a tricky business. There were no manuals and however a person was raised, that is what they took with them, when they had their own offspring.
Not only that, but the moralistic views changed over time. Such as spanking, way back when, they used to beat kids in school with rulers and straps. Now, yelling at a kid will get you fired. Or, even touching them. Like many things, child rearing changed and shifted over time.
He guessed not everyone was cut out to be a father or a husband. He knew he wasn’t. But he also knew that he was a good person, a good man. He hadn’t been for a few years, and it had been rough for him. He’d worked hard and it was now paying off. He’d gotten off the booze, gotten promoted. He’d even repaired his relationship with Val. He was glad. She was a wonderful woman. He still loved her and always would, but she was going in a different and better direction.
He sat back and smiled. He’d come a long way in the last few years, and especially in the last few months. He liked himself better and felt that he was becoming a better writer, again, now that he’d pulled his head out of his ass. Sometime he was just too close to the problems in his life to see. Like Donovan, he’d blamed others, but it was only himself that he could blame for his own actions.
“You’re growing young man, you’re growing.” He laughed.
Ϫ
Jasper sat outside of the suburban ranch. The driveway was empty. It would seem that Mr. Pea Green Ford was not at home. Hmmm where could he be? Where could he be? Jasper looked at the car’s clock and it was 11:20pm. He saw the lights in the house go off. The missus was going to bed. Good, she wasn’t waiting up for hubby. Jasper waited a few more minutes. He smoked his cigarette, blowing smoke rings and poking his finger through them. His body was relaxed, he always enjoyed the pre-kill time.
He let his mind wander over different scenarios, it was like going window shopping. Looking at all the different outcomes, knowing that there was still only one that would happen, and that was your favorite. Knowing that the feel of the hammer on bone was exquisite. God! He loved it all. He couldn’t pick a favorite part.
He put out his cigarette, didn’t want to leave a butt laying around with his DNA. He was crazy, not stupid. He sniggered at the thought. Jasper then got out of his car. He had his hammer with him and a smile. He loved to whistle when he was happy, but now was not the time. He did a little jig as he walked toward the house. His feet softly dancing around.
He ran up the last thirty feet to the house and then up the driveway. It was nice and dark around the home. Nice shadows for all kinds of fun things to do in secret. There were two box hedges on either side of the front door. He smiled. Good cover. He’d wait and when Mr. Pea Green Ford came home, wham bam thank you mam. He sniggered at the thought. He leaned back against the house and relaxed. It might take an hour or better for lover boy to come home. His mind settled into a near sleep, as he rested. He tried to keep the excited energy low, as he wanted all his energies for the kill.
