Book One: Part II: Random Evil - Chapter Three
The Squad Room
December 26th - Wednesday – 8:01 a.m.
Ed was looking over the reports that were faxed to him from Buffalo OD. As he studied them, several of the team members came strolling in, followed by Baker.
She wasn’t going to like this.
“Hey, Ed. I can already see that look in your eye. Just once I would like to walk in here and hear absolutely that nothing went wrong for a change.”
“Snowballs don’t melt in hell, either,” quipped Rodgers.
“They don’t,” grinned Adams.
That made a few people laugh.
Ed handed Baker the reports.
“Looks like she’s headed this way after all. Damn. This makes her fourth kill already, and she isn’t but maybe sixty miles outside of Buffalo.”
“The roads are still screwed up there, Baker. There have been reports the city might run out of salt to keep the roads clear. So, I’d say the longer she takes to get here, the better prepared we can be when she does show up.”
“Good point. Other than that, is there anything pressing we need to go over before I start the briefing?
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Over half of what’s been discussed since last week has been taken care of. The other half we’re still dealing with as far as day-to-day shit goes.”
“Give me ten then to talk to the Captain about removing the surveillance.”
Ed cocked his head up in surprise.
“I’m sending Stevie back home Saturday. I don’t want him here if she gets close. And, I don’t want any of our guys to get caught unaware. Remember what happened last time?”
Ed didn’t say a word.
She walked toward the Captain’s office, opened, and closed his door, and started telling him what she told Ed.
If you were on the other side of that glass such as Ed, Rodgers, Adams, Saul, and a few others; you could hear the muffled voice of Captain Todd as he waved his arms about, arguing his case for her protection.
Captain Todd gave in, but with one stipulation. The surveillance would last until Monday night.
Baker’s Desk – 1:19 p.m.
Baker had just returned from lunch when she spotted a file-folder marked PRINTS, staring up at her from her desktop. Below was a post-it note; payphone prints and matches. Signed, A. That would be the Lab Assistant, Lori Alomar. That girl would be heading up her own department in a couple years. She was a bright, articulate woman, with a no-nonsense attitude.
Opening the folder, she scanned the list.
Eleven sets of prints and three partials.
Looking down the list of names; people she would have brought in for questioning, one name caused her to stop.
“If this isn’t interesting. Mr. I-don’t-go-anywhere. What were you doing at the payphone?”
Thinking to herself, she wondered why he would use a payphone way across town. What would compel him to be on that side of the city? It’s strictly a business mogul’s haven.
The rich and too important-to-care-about-the-poor, work there. Their homes were a half million or more.
Why would Bishop Ekerson waste his time there?
She put out a dispatch to her team to bring in everyone on the list for her to question, but one. She would talk with Ekerson personally.
St. Peter’s Church – 2:35 p.m.
“Thank you for seeing me, Father.”
“My pleasure. And what do I owe you for this visit?”
“Actually, you owe me a few answers to some questions I have. Didn’t you once tell me, you hardly, if ever, leave the church? That your secretary handles most of your personal needs for things?”
“Yes, that is true. But there are times when I must get away. There are also times when I am required to be away; especially when it comes to the church and matters of the estate.”
“How often are you in or around the business district at 19th and Murrate?”
“Forgive me, Lieutenant, but is there a problem here I’m not aware of?”
“I hope not. But again, how familiar are you with the area?”
“I am very familiar with the area. The church’s legal firm and accountant are in the Snyder Building. Respectively, the second and fifth floors. Their names are Donald Dracos, the church’s attorney, and Millicent Washington, our accountant.”
Baker wrote all of this in her pad.
“Let me ask, Father Ekerson; there is a payphone on the corner of 19th and Murrate, exactly where the Snyder Building sits. Can you tell me who you called from that payphone on Christmas Eve? I would assume a call you could have made from the Rectory.”
“You have found me out, then. I had only moments before the call, left Ms. Washington’s office, when I realized I left my hat there. I called and explained I would be returning to get it. You can call and ask her if you like.”
She thought about doing so.
“She works on Christmas Eve?”
“Police, firemen, doctors and nurse, paramedics and priests work on the holidays too, Lieutenant. And, so do lawyers. If you must know my reason for being there, I had to sign documents to be forwarded to the Arch Diocese in Buffalo.
“This is something that is done quarterly. I cannot entrust my secretary to do this for me. Besides, forgery is a crime.” He smiled at her.
“Okay, Father Ekerson, that’s all I have for now. I’ll give this Millicent Washington a call.” Closing her note pad, she stared at him and asked, “Have you seen or heard from him at all?”
“No, Lieutenant, I haven’t. When I do, I will call you. Heaven knows there is still a place for him there, but he must be brought to justice first. Then, and only then, can his soul begin to heal and accept Christ.”
A Situation – 3:22 p.m.
Rodgers and Hinkle, a rookie assigned to learn the ropes, were on one of their dispatches to bring in Edward Marley. They didn’t have much on him. Single, almost forty, did some time in Chino eight years ago for armed robbery. Clean as a whistle since getting out. Now, he works for a construction outfit.
Marley’s easy to recognize. Bald, with a python tattoo all over his skull that wraps around his neck and the tail ends just above his heart. Marley also sports a scar that runs down the left side of his face from a knife fight when he was seventeen.
At this time of day, they didn’t think he would be at home, and he wasn’t. As they were leaving his apartment building, and headed back to their car, Rodgers spotted Marley walking up the street.
“There he is Hinkle. Just stand beside me and stay relaxed. This guy is clean as far as we know, but we don’t want to give him a reason to bolt on us if he doesn’t have to.”
Rodgers and Hinkle walked toward Marley, with Hinkle on his left side, his eyes slightly nervous. He didn’t want to make any mistakes. It’s his first day on the force.
“Hello. Edward Marley?”
Marley stopped about five feet from the two men. His eyes shifted from one to the other. Cops? Damn.
Without wasting another second of thought, Marley, stepped into a run between both men, catching them off guard, and kept running the length of the street, past where he lived.
Rodgers regained his balance, shouting, “Marley! Stop where you are! I don’t want to have to shoot you!” Rodgers had his revolver in his hands and aimed at Marley’s running frame.
Hinkle drew his weapon as well.
“Last chance, Marley! FREEZE!”
Marley was almost out of range of both the weapon and the voice, when he decided to stop. Without being told, he got to his knees, both hand laced together behind his head. Old habits are hard to forget.
Rodgers and Hinkle raced toward him.
“Put the cuffs on him, Hinkle.”
Pulling him to his feet, Rodgers looked at Marley and read him the Miranda Act. As he and Hinkle were taking him back to their car, he said, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you ran.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only wanted to ask you a few questions. If I liked the answers, I would have walked away and never bothered you again.”
“Huh? This ain’t about my stash upstairs?”
“Stash,” said Hinkle. “What stash?”
Marley’s eyes rolled, and he tightened his lips. He just realized he said way too much.
Rodgers shook his head.
“Just answer this; 19th and Murrate, a couple days ago, actually Christmas Eve, you made a call from a payphone. Remember who you called?”
“I ain’t saying.”
“Have it your way then.” Looking at Hinkle, “Put him in the back. I’m calling this in.”
Once in the car, Hinkle wrapped the seatbelt around Marley then got in the front seat of the car.
Within two hours, Marley’s apartment had been searched thoroughly. There, they found over three-dozen home-grown marijuana plants. But they also found a pair of size ten work boots. And, a Bowie knife.
The Interview – 4:26 p.m.
Both Baker and Ed were in the room with Edward Marley.
Behind a one-way glass, stood Captain Todd, along with Rodgers and Hinkle. They were witnesses to what was about to happen.
Ed started first.
“Marley, according to this report, you’ve been out of prison quite a while, and have a steady job. Seems that prior to this job, you couldn’t find steady employment. Why is that?”
“Easy. No one wants to hire a convict out of prison.”
“Come off it, Marley. You have been out over six years. Are you telling me that for six years you couldn’t get any kind of work?”
“Do time. Try it sometime. It ain’t that easy. Hell, I got day labor work easy enough, but a regular paying job, no way. I’m surprised I still have this one. Last construction site lasted seven months before they found I lied on my application. But you guys popping me today took care of me keeping this job.”
Ed went in another direction.
“Who were you selling the grass to?”
“Nobody. C’mon, man, that was just me personal stash. I don’t sell drugs for Christ sake. I really don’t need to be hassled by the feds and have them up my ass.”
“You made a call the other night from a payphone on the corner of 19th and Murrate; remember that?”
“Yeah, but why do you care?”
Baker jumped in.
“Because several unexplained dead bodies says we have the right to care.”
“Hold on a minute. Dead bodies? I don’t know nothing about any dead bodies.”
“Let me refresh your memory. Last spring, a rash of murders took place in Montie. Several people were killed, and they were all killed by this weapon.”
Baker pulled up a clear see-thru evidence bag holding his Bowie knife.
Before Marley could respond, Baker continued.
“Also,” she held up a much larger evidence bag holding a pair of work boots.
“The killer also wore a pair of size ten boots. You see, Mr. Marley, at around the time you first went to work for Marsh Construction; that was also about the same time the murders first began. Now why is that, do you suppose?”
“I swear, I didn’t have nothing to do with nobody being killed! I don’t know what you are trying to do to me, but I didn’t kill nobody!”
“Then, Mr. Marley, simply tell us who you spoke with on the payphone.”
“I, I, I can’t do that.”
“As it stands Marley,” Ed blurted out, “you can’t afford not to. If you are as innocent as you claim, we’ll know soon enough, but let me remind you that the wheels of justice can move incredibly slow. It may take us days, weeks, even a year before we might clear you of all charges. And, I’m sure you’ve heard stories about how us cops can leak the word … snitch, out on the street. That could go bad for you.”
Marley looked at Ed with nervous fear in his eyes. They darted back and forth between Ed and Baker.
“Okay, but I was just trying to make a few extra bucks is all. The call was to a broker, Silva Machelli. I was to take a drive south into the Carolina’s and fill up a Hertz rental truck with cigarettes and bring them back for resale in one of a dozen or, so package stores he owns. That was all I was supposed to do. There was two grand in it for me. It was one of those jobs I could do once a month on my days off or when the weather was bad.”
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
“I swear, that’s all I know.”
Just then, Captain Todd walked in with a court stenographer.
“Baker, Ed, you two can leave. Get that property over to the lab for a thorough examination.”
As they left, Captain Todd motioned for the stenographer to sit down and begin taking Marley’s statement.
“Here is how this works, Mr. Marley. If what you say is true, and nothing of yours we have in evidence points to you as our suspect in a multiple murder homicide, then there will be no charges filed against you.”
Marley felt the weight of the world come off his shoulders. He knew he was innocent of that.
“However, we will be placing you under arrest for illegally growing and harvesting, and the use of marijuana. It generally carries a penalty of $5,000 and five years in the state prison. Since you already have a record, you know there will be no probation or parole offered.”
Marley felt the weight of the world falling down and crushing him to the ground.
“Mr. Marley, I am prepared to make you an offer of a once in a lifetime deal. Give me your statement once more to be recorded here, and of your relationship with Silva Machelli. In return for that, I will explain to the District Attorney of the help you have supplied and have the felony charge reduced to a Class-A misdemeanor. That’s sixty days jail time. That’s the only offer you get.”
Ed Marley started talking.
The Captain’s Office – 6:12 p.m.
Baker and Ed walked into Captain Todd’s office and he motioned them to have a seat while he was on the phone.
“Yes, that’s right, judge. With his statement, we’ll have enough on Machelli to search every business he owns, including his home. I feel confident we finally have something on him that will stick this time. Yes, I know what will happen if I’m wrong, but that’s not going to happen. Thanks, judge. I’ll have one of my men, Rodgers, come down to the courthouse to your chambers to pick up the arrest and search warrant.”
As he hung up the phone, with a small smile creasing his lips, he looked up and said, “Silva Machelli is finally going to get what’s coming to him. When we get finished with him, the feds can have him. Of course, that might be twenty years from now.
“He’s avoided criminal prosecution twice, but this time we will have physical evidence and his shyster lawyer won’t get him a ticket home this time. And all that muscle he has behind him will fade and go away.
“Now, tell me, what did you two find out with Marley’s boots and knife?”
“I just got off the line with Carl from the Lab before you called us in here. The boot markings from the imprint of the heel and sole doesn’t match with what we have. There was evidence of blood on the knife. But not human blood. That could mean he was skinning a dead animal like a deer, or he was just killing animals just because.” Baker grimaced at that last part.
“This little incident today panned out in the long run. Ed, I want you to get in touch with Rodgers and tell him to pick up the warrants. I want you to be the lead on this. Take six of your best to search everything and everywhere. Also, tell Rodgers, I want him to bring Machelli in and book him.
“It’s never been proven, but back in the day, Rodgers was shot by one of Machelli’s boys, but there was an arrest, but his boy had an airtight alibi. I’m pretty sure this will please Rodgers. I know it does me.”
“Can do, will do, Captain.” Responded Ed.
“Meantime, Baker; we still have nine people sitting in a holding cell, waiting to be interviewed. Half of which doesn’t even remotely look like our boy. But, we’ll go through the motions. We might as well get to it.”
All three had hoped Marley might have been the end of a terrible set of murders. Baker wanted this worse than anyone.
As Baker and Ed left the Captain’s office, with Todd going to one of the interrogation rooms, Ed was on his cell phone informing Rodgers what was up.
After he was off the phone, he looked at Baker and grinned.
“He’s pumped. You know what this will mean, don’t you? If this goes down right, Rodgers might very well get a medal and a promotion for this.”
“I know. He deserves it. He’s a good man to have around, present company included.
“Right now, I have interviews to conduct while you play cops and robbers. I want this to go quickly because they want to get out of here as badly as I do.”
As it stood, Baker was right. None of the people she and Captain Todd spoke with, were guilty of anything other than using a payphone.
Sometimes police work nets a big kettle of fish, and sometimes that kettle has holes in it.
“Doesn’t make sense, Captain,” she said in his office. “One of those people personally called me from that payphone, but everything they said checks out. Well, except for one.”
Todd’s eyebrows arched. “Which one? Who did we miss on?”
“You didn’t. I spoke with him earlier today. Bishop Ekerson.”
“No way, Baker. He was almost instrumental in helping us catch our killer last spring.”
“I know this. Maybe that’s why I haven’t bothered to follow up on his story. With a bishop, I don’t like using the word, alibi.”
“Maybe you should, just to clear your head.”
“I will. I’ll call his accountant first thing in the morning.”
Outside the Twenty-Second Precinct – 7:41 p.m.
A dark blue Mazda sat unnoticed; headlights off, engine idle, with one person in the car behind the wheel, staring at the front set of doors that led into the police station.
The driver watched as people came and went through those doors. The driver was only looking for one person to come walking out.
Claire Waynestead ducked down when she saw six or seven police cars coming her way and continued to drive by without stopping. Obviously, they were on a mission.
Claire had fantasized seeing Baker walk down those steps, and herself, standing in the street with a gun and put a bullet in her head for what she did to Claire’s life. But, Claire realized a bullet wouldn’t be good enough. She would make Baker’s pain last much, much longer.
Claire waited another hour but didn’t see Baker. She decided she would come back tomorrow and observe. Eventually, she would catch Baker alone somewhere. From there, it would only be a matter of time before she would destroy her.
The snow started falling again and the temperature dropped another five degrees, leaving the quaint city in the single digits for the night. Claire drove back to her motel room and planned for her next deliverance.
Just as she pulled away, Baker and Ed walked down the front steps, saying goodnight to one another, and headed in opposite directions for their cars.
Ed would go home, unwind, make himself a chef salad and pop open a cold beer.
Baker would go home and tell Stevie the bad news. On Friday, he would be going home, and for the second straight time, his vacation time gets cut short because of issues all relating to herself.
Maybe Mark was right, she thought. Maybe I do love my job more than family. Maybe, I should throw in the towel and find a job that doesn’t require me to carry a gun practically around the clock. A job with less stress. A job that doesn’t put Stevie in harm’s way every time he comes here. A job where she can just be a mom, raise Stevie properly, and one day be a grandmother without a gun attached to her hip.
“I’d hate everything except for the grandmother part. As would Stevie. This is what I do. It’s all I know.”
God, that’s terrible. All I know.
She remembered Harry Greenwood. Five years ago. Good cop. The Twenty-Second threw one hell of a retirement party for him. She remembered one of the last things he said to her.
“Thirty years, kid. Thirty good years. I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world except maybe another thirty. Being a cop is all I know.”
Two months after the party, Harry was found on his bedroom floor with a bullet to the temple. Suicide.
Driving home carefully in the snow, and just before she turned onto her street, she said, “Harry, it’s all I know, too.”
December 27th - Thursday Morning – 1:45a.m.
Winter reminds me of dead bodies. It starts out pretty but then turns cold and without remorse, and snow doesn’t care about anything, just like the dead.
I can’t even begin to remember how many fucking people I have killed in my lifetime. Maybe 200, maybe 300. What’s oddly funny; less than 30 were paid contracts. I go in, put two bullets into the head, and leave. But I always make absolutely certain there will never be a way anything can be traced back to me.
But it won’t be much longer before I am going to have to give up my second life here. Doing my paid assignments and still wanting to keep a watchful on sweet Janis, is beginning to take a bit out of me. So, this will mean the end game will soon be approaching. Then I can walk away from here and not worry about her tenacity.
Now that asshole for a detective that goes damn near everywhere she goes; killing him wouldn’t phase me in the slightest.
But I still have this problem. Killing sweet Janis, still conflicts with the reasoning of why I killed all those other assholes.
Liars, cheaters, thieves, perverts, one and all. Some, like those few in this town, claim they are godly, and don’t even have a clue who God is.
But, sweet Janis, is nothing like those people.
Sad to say, I can never rid all the evil people that walk the city streets in this world. But I will be damned if I will just sit back and watch a judge, jury and the law take its sweet ass time keeping these fuckers locked away. And for what? Three years? Five years? Very few get life.
This is where my mind is: I see no difference between a drug dealer selling drugs to kids, and an adult, sexually abusing their own kid, or someone that kid may know and trust. It sucks.
I didn’t want to believe that at first, but it’s truer than not. Child abuse happens more from someone the kid knows. So, when I’m in the neighborhood, and I find out, that kid won’t have to worry.
It’s my rules. My justice.
It’s late. At least I won’t have to come back to my delivery job until after New Year’s.
I have twin hits to focus on in Madrid and Portugal. Three days from now, I’ll be back here doing what I do. Watching and waiting for the right time.
sweet Janis. It will yet be some time before your time ends. Until then, make a resolution. It will be the last one.
Freddy turned off all the lights, laid down in bed on his back. Then his thoughts rambled to years back, and tonight, no different than on all nights past; the quiet tears streamed from the corners of his eyes until sleep finally finds a safe haven for him where memories no longer haunted him; for now.