Chapter 3

Standing in front of the mirror in his room at the Bishop Village Motel in Bishop, California he made ready his disguise for the lunch meeting of the local Lions Club. He’d come in late the night before wearing thick glasses a hat with a large overcoat on to check in. The girl at the desk had been sleeping and he knew she would never give a description of him that would amount to much. Now he was ready.

Walking out into the bright sun, but cold day high in the mountains of this small town of thirty five hundred, no one saw him leave the motel. He packed his bag in the car and drove downtown to the restaurant where the weekly meeting of the Lion’s club met. He’d checked the location out the day before and parked in the rear of the restaurant. At noon he walked in and showed his credentials to a man at the door who welcomed him to the lunch meeting. Two hours later he’d found his man with the name to match his game: Matt.

It didn’t take long to find out what he needed. Single, lived alone and no family in the area. Matt invited him home for a drink and before dark Matt sat with his head on his chest breathing no more. He cleaned his tool and as usual left by the front door leaving the porch light on. He limped to his car and drove away into the night.

Brad sitting with Billy in the hotel coffee shop at six is listening to what his computer expert had to say. Billy, now totally focused and showing none of the antics he was known for, said, “Boss, I burned the midnight oil and this is what I will do this morning. I will take the map of California and line up the cities where he struck and then takes the names of the people and program the computer to make sense out of nonsense.” Billy knew better than to give his boss tech talk and this was his way of telling him he was on the job and would have something for him to look at by days end.

Brad said while drinking some god awful tea and eating dry toast, “Tell me what you think about this killer of old people Billy.”

Rocky was under the table chewing on Billy’s old tennis shoes and having a good time teasing him. Billy had been rubbing is back with the other foot and it would seem they had some special relationship between them. Billy replied thoughtfully, “No doubt this guy or person is a crackpot and trying to guess his next move will be difficult. A wacko like this one will make a mistake intentionally sooner or later. He wants us to catch him so he can put his name out front on national news as the cleverest guy who ever went on a killing spree. Unlike Jeffery Dahmer who butchered, this guy can’t stand the sight of blood.” Billy dug a map out of his bag and showed Brad that indeed the “N” was clear, but connecting the other eight sites” A” shows up. Brad had the same thing and both understood the need for the computer to take this and run his program that Billy would write.

They tossed around some other thoughts and when their driver showed up at seven they left for the FBI office. A nice day Brad thought. A little warm perhaps, but for one that was used to living on the coast, a change from a cold wind to a warm windless day felt nice once in a while. The driver was a little more than nervous with Rocky lying on the front seat with his seatbelt on. He was so big his nose touched the driver’s leg. Glancing down once in a while the driver had fear in his eyes and Rocky felt it. More than once he raised his head only to feel the muscle reaction of the driver’s leg and the car accelerated in fits and jumps. Brad knew what Rocky was doing and he told Rocky to cut it out much to the driver’s relief.

Walking into the office and back toward where Vicky had shown him his broom closet for an office was, she met him with a big smile on her face. She said, “Mr. Pratt, a change of office was ordered and let me show your new office. Follow me please,” as she tried to swish her hips down the hall. It was a poor attempt at trying to look sexy, but Billy was the one she intended it for. He took it hook line and sinker. Vicky walked past his old office and down the hall on the left a double door opened into a large conference room. Sitting in the middle of the table in front of an expensive looking desk chair sat a computer, fax and all the bells and whistles could ask for in an office. A young man dressed in the way of agents stood up when the doors opened. Vicky introduced him as his liaison between other agents either in the field or here in the office. Brad looked around and saw a China board at the end of the table with a large map of California with colored flags of the sites where the killer has stuck. Brad was impressed and as he took in the rest of the room Vicky told him that special agent in charge Jake was waiting for him in his office at his convenience.

Brad said, “Tell him I will be with him around eight after I go to the computer center with Billy”

“Fine sir, I will tell him when I return. Is there anything else you need? If not, just call me and I will see to it or agent Jones here will help you.” She coyly looked at Billy and left leaving the doors open so Billy could see her no hips going down the hall. Billy did notice her crow’s feet and fantasized about her feet and something erotic to do with ice cream.

Brad told agent Jones he would be back soon and yes he had some things he would like him to do for him. Agent Jones in all of his youth said, “Yes sir, I will at your disposal from now on as long as you need me”

Brad and Billy left and Billy looked at his boss and noticed not an expression crossed his face about agent Jones, but he knew he was laughing inside. They were given the red carpet treatment in the computer center and Billy fell in love with the new modern computers. That was last Brad saw of him until after six pm that night.

Vicky led Brad into Jake’s office where Brad found Jake in much the same condition as yesterday. He looked wrung out and if it wasn’t for a complete change of clothes he would have suggested the guy take a few days of sick leave and gather up some strength. Jake didn’t offer coffee or a sit down, but Brad once again moved the chair to the side, but back away from the desk this time. Jake looked through some files absently and Brad felt he was trying to find the words to satisfy Brad the FBI was efficient and on the job. Brad waited and finally Jake said, “I don’t know who you are, but I was told under no uncertain terms that you were the boss and I was to follow whatever you suggested the FBI should do. I mean to tell you that ruffles my feathers and I would think that the best agency in the world has to succumb to outsiders to solve a case is beyond my reasoning. Now, I will give you what you ask for, but step out of line and I will be there to remind you who you are working with. The FBI will solve this case and don’t get in our way. You’ve already riled our agents with your team and with your dog, but I have to live with it. The FBI profiler from Washington is on her way this morning along with a pathologist to determine what kind of weapon was used for the murders.”

Brad noticed Jake felt a little cocky telling him a profiler was coming and a weapons expert too. Brad stood up and said, “If that is all, I will leave you to your work. Oh, by the way, the murder weapon is a tool used by loggers to braid wire rope and also used by longshoremen to braid hemp rope. It is called a Marlin spike,” and with that he left the office with Rocky following on his heels leaving Jake sitting there with his mouth open.

Brad found agent Jones more than helpful. He was too raw to be making any political moves and wanted to show he could be efficient albeit inexperienced. Brad picked up the phone and called Mike’s cell. Both figured the call was being taped or listened to, but they both had their own ways of code talking. Mike answered and said, “I’m hot on the trail boss and will report in at noon.” In code, which meant he had nothing and would call Brad on his cell at lunch time after he spent the morning digging around Los Angeles looking for costume rentals who sold to a small timer making a big purchase.

Next he called his wife. She answered from inside a car as the sounds of traffic were heard in the background. Brad didn’t say much except good morning and she returned the greeting by saying, “I miss you too. I’m on my way to Paramount Studios and will talk to you later.”

Brad turned to agent Jones and said, “Agent what do you think of this madman?”

“I’m not sure what you are asking but if I think you are saying how do I see this person and why he is doing it?”

“Roughly yes, but what do you make of the message he or she might be sending us?”

“Well sir, I think he is toying with us and definitely feels we can’t catch him. I’m young sir and think computers are the key to finding this guy. I see a guy as I think it is a man and not a woman. Why, I can’t explain the why, but I feel it is a man who is searching for his own identity and does that through his disguises he uses. He’s telling us he is the best make up man in the world and never makes a mistake. I’ve read the investigative reports and he leaves nothing behind and especially no finger prints. We knew he must be younger than a senior because of the postman saying he looked out of place with the quick retreat to his car.” Moving to the board agent Jones pointed to the map of Southern California. He took the pointer and showed the “AN” of the two letters of the alphabet. “Before you arrived this morning I ran a program of combinations of words and came up with the most probable word ‘CAN’.” He let that finish his answer and Brad nodded his agreement.

“Agent Jones that is what I came up with too. We both can’t be wrong,” he said with a chuckle. Brad liked this guy and his frankness. Too bad Jake couldn’t take a chapter out of agent Jones’ book.

The phone rang and agent Jones answered it and passed it on to Brad. Jake was on the other end saying they had another murder in a small town in the mountains called Bishop. Jake wanted to know if Brad wanted to take a helicopter ride and see for himself. Brad told him he would and he was ready when the call to take off came. Jake said the chopper was ready now behind the building and agent Jones would show him where it was.

A couple hours later they were standing in the house of one Matt Hinginger. Brad had put on latex gloves and waited for the go ahead to look a little closer. He got the nod and looked at the wound in the back of the head. It didn’t look like much of a wound, but he knew how deadly it was when a twelve inch spike was driven into the brain. Very little blood was seen and what was there had dried a long time ago. A lighter streak of brain matter and spotted blood could be seen across his right shoulder. Brad thought right that was where the killer wiped off his weapon. Brad said, “Let’s go talk to some of the Lion members,” he had heard about as the sheriff clued them in was where Matt was last seen talking to a stranger who showed up at a Lion club meeting.

The sheriff had done a good job and had all he members who were there for lunch back at the restaurant waiting for the FBI to interview them. The sheriff addressed the group and said, “The FBI would like a few words from you in a group meeting rather than individually.” He walked to the side and sat down while Jake came to the front to address the members. Jake didn’t waste any words by saying, “I don’t want hearsay; I want facts and please remember that we need information that will provide us with the apprehension of this killer. Now raise your hand if you talk directly to the stranger who came today for lunch,” he waited and a full minute went by and Brad thought that Jake had scared them off from coming forward with his harsh words. But then a hand rose tentatively from the back and an old man struggled to get up.

“I talked to both the stranger and to Matt at their table,” he said with a feeble voice. “To my best recollection we talked about the weather and then the local economy. The stranger, who called himself, Frank Laughton, was interested in some vacation property.”

Jake asked the man to tell one of his agents in more detail in a private setting. A special agent helped the old man walk into a private room used for food storage and Brad followed close behind. The storage room was spacious and the special agent made some seats out of boxes of canned goods and Brad made his own perch on a box of oranges. Rocky sat between the old man, whose name was Fred Billings, retired fireman from Bakersfield. The special agent gave Brad the nod and sat back with pen and notebook for later use. Brad asked Fred, “How are your eyes and as I see you don’t wear glasses what would you say your vision was?”

Fred said, “My eyes are fine and indeed I wear reading glasses, but on my driver’s license,” he pulled out his billfold and showed the agent, “I don’t need glasses to drive a car.”

“Fred, I want you to start with the stranger’s hands and describe what you saw. Were his fingers long or short; fat or thin; fingernails trimmed or long; hangnails and what color hair on his fingers or wrists did you observe?”

Fred sat there with his eyes closed. Brad noticed he was not so old, but crippled up with arthritis. A full head of silver hair and a nice face with smooth skin and soft wrinkles made the old gent pleasant to look at. Finally he said, “He had short, but not so fat fingers with trimmed nails. He had light brown to blonde finger hair and on his wrist too; also a Mason’s ring on his ring finger. On his left wrist was a scar about a half an inch long, but it looked like a very old scar.”

“Was there anything else that struck you as not right about this man? Such as, the age of his hands or face? The way he sat, slouched or upright; a voice that might have been nasal or off sound for his age; or what even his nose hairs were like, long or trimmed?”

Once more Fred closed his eyes and remained quiet for a minute or two. Rocky went up to him and laid his head on Fred’s leg and Fred rubbed his ears. Then Fred came back to life saying, “Nose hairs first. No nose hairs to speak of and his voice was much like a man of his age. One thing though about his lips, they were thin but an occasionally a twitch on the left side of his mouth would happen. I was at the table for about fifteen minutes and left when lunch was served. During that time the twitch only happened maybe two or three times. Now his skin was baby smooth, but his face had lots of wrinkles and he wore thick glasses, but the glasses, come to think about it, the glasses didn’t make his eyes bigger.”

“Thanks Fred, you have been a big help. If you think of anything else, call our Sacramento office and ask for Brad Pratt or any special agent for that matter.” Brad got up and left leaving the agent to ask him questions or whatever he needed to justify to Jake he indeed questioned the old man.

Walking back to the small meeting room the young girl from the motel was asking to see someone about the guy who stayed there the night before. She had remembered something and as Jake was busy, Brad overheard her and took the girl off the agent’s hands to talk to her. They moved to the main restaurant and sat down at a booth. He smiled at her and asked if she wanted something to eat or drink. She declined and handed a business card to Brad saying, “I think this guy dropped it last night. I was so sleepy when he checked in I really don’t remember much about him at all. But when he left he didn’t close the door and I went around the counter and closed it. Walking back I saw a white card on the floor and picked it up. It must have fallen out of his wallet when he paid me.”

Brad said, “You are a good person to have brought this to us; this maybe is the lead we need to catch this guy,” as he read the card and put it in his shirt pocket. Jake came out and gave Brad the nod to go. Brad waited until they returned to the Sac office before he related what the old man said and what the card showed.

Back in his office after agent Jones had the card blown up and placed on the board Jake and his assistants sat looking at the card. Brad looked at his watch and it was close to five and wondered how his wife and Mike were doing. Jake broke his thoughts by saying, “Brad what you make of this new evidence about our serial killer?” The card was a white, plain, and cheap business card advertising costumes for parties and other sundry events. It advertised: “Patty’s Party Favors” located on an off street in or near Hollywood. The usual phone number and fax number and the owner’s name: Patty Goodheart and her home phone number for emergencies.

“Check it out is all I have to say at this time Jake.”

“Well, wonder boy, I thought maybe this fresh piece of evidence would put you on the trail faster than your dog can run,” he said with a sarcastic voice. The other agents lowered their heads and were truly embarrassed by the special agent in charge of the Sacramento office.

Brad took it in stride and went on to tell the agents about his take on the eye witness who spoke to our suspect and all the details to the word. Brad didn’t need notes. His recall was perfect and that put him a cut above the others when it came to remembering details.

The meeting broke up and Billy walked through the door looking as tired and worn out as Jake. He sat down heavily and reached for a cigarette. Brad wouldn’t deny him his fix so he let him light up. Billy suggested they go back to the hotel and have some dinner. What he said was he needed to talk, but not here. Brad told him he was finished for the day and thanked the agent Jones for his help and see you tomorrow.