“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.
Chapter 4
Riding back to the hotel
with their driver, Brad thought back on his meeting with Billy
Rider for the first time. Strangely enough he came from his father.
Four years ago his father called him and told him the man he was
looking for could be found in San Diego under lock and key with the
key being held by Naval Intelligence. All Brad had to do was go
pick him up and he was his to do with whatever he needed. That was
all that was said. His father was not a man of many words and what
words he did speak were more than useful in business, or military
business would be more correct.
Brad found Billy with the
shakes from no nicotine and after reading his file, decided this
was indeed the guy he was looking for. Aside from his outward
appearance, his background in computer hacking put him at the top
of the game. Control was all that was needed and after a shaky
start, for the last few years they were as close as one can get
without being blood. Billy had told him hacking made money and
money was needed for his aging father. His father was a vet, but
like all or most programs for veterans the money just didn’t go far
enough. His father had a rare brain disease and needed constant
care. He was in an old veteran’s hospital in Seattle, but Billy
wanted to move him to better facilities. Hacking was the answer,
but it only landed him in jail. Nowadays, thanks to Brad and his
generous salary, father was in an assisted living complex south of
Seattle with the care he needed.
Few knew really what his
knowledge of computers and given the time could hack into any
system in the world, which he proved time and time again. Billy
lived not far from his father and only minutes away from Sea-Tac
International Airport. Most of the time Billy could work out of his
house in his basement full of the latest on government computers.
Whatever he asked for, Brad made sure he got it promptly. Only once
did his father ask how Billy worked out and Brad told him
fine.
Now as the driver drove
away, Billy fired up another smoke as they walked to the hotel
door. He deposited his smoke after too long hits that made the fire
glow like a roman candle in the butt can and they strode to the
elevator. Brad and Billy both knew they would go to Billy’s room so
he could smoke and show Brad what he had on his laptop.
Brad loosened his tie and
Rocky plopped down totally relaxed now that no threat to his master
would be forthcoming. Soon he was snoring and had rolled over on
his back with his legs spread dreaming of whatever dogs dream
about. Brad kicked off his penny loafers and stretched his legs
thinking he would go for a run later. Meanwhile Billy had brought
his laptop online and began talking about what he came up with
today.
He said, “I ran he two
letters A and N against all possible words and came up with the
word ‘Can’. Then I searched for all phrases, expressions, clichés,
puns and more and what came up with more probability than anything
was the phase: ‘Catch me if you can’.”
“I didn’t need a computer to
tell me that Billy. I just didn’t want to hear it because that
means more than fifteen people will die if he is left in his game.
And that doesn’t preclude the fact he has more to say after that.
We got to get ahead of this guy someway and I’m open to any
suggestion you might have.”
“Boss, there are just too
many cities and towns to make a word game here in California alone.
What if he decides to cross to another state and play another game?
My god this could go on and on. Do you realize Brad even if we find
out who he is finding him will be another story
altogether.”
“Yes I know that and running
him to ground is going to be some luck on our part and bad luck on
his part.” His cell rang and it was Sujin reporting in. Brad
listened and never said a word for ten minutes while Billy played
with his laptop. He heard Brad say something and hung up. Brad sat
there thinking for a while and Billy knew better than to disturb
him when he was thinking. Billy was always amazed how he reasoned
things out and was usually right most of the time with his
deductions.
“Billy, Sujin may be on to
something. To make a long story short, she found a guy who took a
leave of absence from a film production company and after two weeks
was found dead in his house. His brother handled the small estate
and lives in San Diego now, but after trying to locate him, the
neighbors haven’t seen him in a month or more. The car fits the
description and Sujin and Mike are on their way down to San Diego
now to talk to the neighbors.”
Billy waited to see if he
was through and when he looked up at Billy he said, “I know what
you are thinking: how does the brother fit into the scheme of
things?” I really don’t know and even if he is driving his
brother’s car, that doesn’t make him a serial killer. But it sure
makes a guy wonder what he was doing, if it is the same car, in the
area with a dead man talking to a postman.”
Billy added, “And it is
doubtful the car was stolen. But why would the dude keep an old car
like that and what is he doing running around killing old
people?”
“I’d like to know the answer
to that too, but time will reveal the answer and if I’m not
mistaken, it isn’t the brother but the guy who took the leave of
absence.” Billy had not a clue what Brad was thinking, but then
most people didn’t. Only his wife knew what he was thinking most of
the time. Brad lapsed into thought and Billy went back to his
computer lighting up another smoke blowing a smoke ring at the
ceiling.
The hotel room’s phone rang
and Billy went to answer it. He said yes and told Brad it was for
him. Brad moved to the bed and identified him to the caller. It was
the FBI profiler and she was staying at the same hotel. She’d asked
Brad if he would like to have dinner and he agreed, as he told
Billy after hanging up. Walking out the door to take a shower and
change clothes he told Billy to keep at it and left.
Brad met the profiler in the
bar at eight and by her telling him what to look for, he spotted
her at a small table with a glass of wine. He walked up and
introduced himself. She was as tall as him and about the same age.
Nice looking with short black hair and eyes that were piercing like
his. He couldn’t tell the color from the dark bar, but guessed dark
brown as were her skin. She was dressed causal but expensively:
white silk blouse with black pants that contoured her nice figure.
She gave off no sexuality, but in a friendly manner of
intelligence. A real professional he thought and she smelled good
too.
She asked him if he would
like something to drink and he told her tonic water with lemon and
no booze would be fine with him. She signaled the waiter as he
guessed she wanted control of the situation for at least the
present. Time was always on his side and he relaxed to hear what
she had to say. It was quiet with the bar TV news on but no sound.
His drink arrived and after each took stock she told him again her
name and position with the FBI. She must have thought he couldn’t
remember names well as she told him her name was Wendy Brown. Dr.
Wendy Brown, but he could call her Ms. Brown. Brad responded by
saying his name again was Brad Pratt. Dr. Brad Pratt, but she could
call him Brad. Her face turned a little red by the candle light and
it was evident she hadn’t done her homework on him. Brad took a sip
of his tonic and waited for her to begin the discussion.
Wendy recovered quickly and
said, “I’ll give you bullets,” and started her standard story of a
person who fit this type serial killer. “
Psychologists make a practice of profiling people for a
variety of reasons. Psychologists believe that our adult behavior
is based on circumstances during the formative years. In this
instance, parental neglect, especially the mother can set in motion
behavior that will ultimately be considered pathological. This is
also a case of fixation, a morbid thought process that a particular
group is responsible for harmful things and as a result need to
die. When we say that, we are getting into some very serious
psychopathology like schizophrenia. These are a psychosis and one
are divorced from reality. They can structure their world in
keeping with their needs and can be oblivious to logic or the real
world. They are totally governed by their emotions, most of the
time, negative such as hate, resentment and a strong belief that
they can do something about the things they believe are within
their power to control even if it means destroying them. Generally,
they have no conscience or awareness of right or wrong. They do
things because they think and strongly believe that this is OK,
they cannot ever accept responsibility for their actions. They have
no control system such as a belief that they will go to jail if
they are caught and a further belief that it is impossible for them
to get caught in the first place. They do not think like normal
people, they construct their world in keeping with their needs.
Often, things happen to them at an early age to reinforce a
pathological belief, such as an older person doing something to
them while they are youth that they feel rightly or wrongly is a
personal attack on them or something that they believe harmed them,
kept them from getting something that they wanted, etc. They can
turn on and off this pathology. They can work well at a job, not be
noticed and can control their impulses for a long time, but then
they can be overtaken by the sickness and they need to act on it.
They have to be very clever in order to perform acts of violence in
such a skillful way that they will not get caught, but often make
purposeful mistakes to challenge authority to try to catch them,
and in some instances want to get caught. It is always a very
complicated set of circumstances and no two serial killers are
alike, but all possess the same developmental aspects that set
in motion their particular pattern of behavior.”