Chapter 73

 

Circles of gray haze rose rapidly and gathered in a holding pattern above the chief’s head, touching the yellow stained ceiling tiles before they dissipated. Fred had to get out of there. He hated cigarette smoke, but foul cigar smoke was twice as bad; and the chief had been puffing nervously on that damn cigar for the last half hour. Where in hell did he buy them, rejects from Cuba, castoffs from a tire recycling plant?

The chief was oblivious to Fred’s discomfort. A good cigar helped him think, and right now he desperately needed the assistance. “Fred, who do you think is guilty? And please don’t use your logic on this, just use your intuition, because if the killer is putting false clues in front of us, as we both suspect, then we have to look beyond that which is in front of our eyes.”

Fred understood what the chief was attempting to do, but the overwhelming stench now permeating the entire room made it difficult for him to think. “I don’t know, chief; it’s as if the killer is dropping selective bread crumbs to intentionally lead us in the wrong direction. Are any of the bread crumbs real, do they reveal a mistake by the killer, I don’t know? I continue to believe this person doesn’t make many mistakes.”

“Nonsense, Fred; I can’t accept that. You were almost struck down by his car when you were at Flynn’s house. The killer took a great chance to try to eliminate you while he was in plain sight for a moment. His identity might have been found out; the car he was driving could have sustained such damage that it was no longer drivable. I believe the killer is getting desperate, he fears that you are getting much too close; his pattern has been altered. He has become audacious in his recent actions.”

“Boss, I at one time felt the same way you do now, but considering the phenomenal powers this guy has, it may have been one of his puppets driving that car, someone that didn’t even know what he was doing. I don’t disagree that the killer feels my hot breath on his back; but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s becoming reckless. He may have just altered his MO to deal with the changing circumstances. This person is very intelligent and highly adaptable.”

“Fred, you are beginning to talk as if this guy is demonic. Believe me, he is human and fallible. I told you I once employed a psychic in one of my cases. At first I treated her with disdain and disbelief; but eventually I learned to respect her special talent. I didn’t understand it, but I respected her unique capability. Beyond her special talent, she was a loving person, experiencing the same problems in her life that we all do. We lost our son in a tragic accident. She never got over it. She visited his grave every day, rain or shine. Fred, she had a special talent that you and I don’t share. But believe me, she was human in every other way; and in her case it was in the most positive meaning of the word.”

“Chief, it sounds like you got to know this woman while she worked for you.”

“I must have, I married her. We stayed married for over fifteen blissful years. She has been gone from this good earth for ten years now.” A tear crept into the chief’s eye, he turned away feigning a coughing spell. “Damn cigars,” he muttered, “the smoke can be irritating sometimes.”

Fred was surprised. Another dimension had surfaced in his chief. Fred realized that he didn’t really know anything about his marriage, his son—nothing at all of substance. “I’m sorry, Chief, I didn’t know.”

The chief took a moment to clear his throat so he wouldn’t choke out the words when he spoke. “You weren’t supposed to know, Fred, but I had to give you a little insight into those who possess special powers. I know Cathy, my late wife, only used her powers in a positive way. You, on the other hand have a person who apparently exploits his special talents. But that person still has fears, hang-ups, tendencies, compensations, day dreams, rationalizations and all that goes with being human. You just have to find out what they are. I’m sure the clues are out there—just find them.”

Fred thought, maybe they are out there somewhere but what are they: a massive ego, a master at games, an unwillingness to lose, a continuous feeling of superiority—and what else? Maybe it’s a person who feels so superior that he or she is not capable of making mistakes, believing no one else is intelligent enough to pick up on them. 

Again the chief had helped him. He now knew his next step; but he didn’t want to bring it up to the chief yet, if ever. Besides he had to get out of the room; with watering eyes and a clouded view he could hardly see the chief from the other side of his desk.

As Fred departed the room, his eyes unfocused, he bumped soundly into Jim. “Strange meeting you like this, Fred, but you ought to know that I had a chance to check out Dr. Anderson.”

“Any luck?”

“Nothing specific, the only negative record I was able to come up with concerned his medical stint in Naples. What I told you previously is basically what their local police have on him, which is really nothing of substance since the case was dismissed. I talked to his division director at AU, and got nothing out of him. Then I visited Anderson, and you’re right; he is like one of those bobbing dolls in the back of a car window. It didn’t take much to get him shaking, and I’m sure it’s not a physical condition; it’s pure nerves. Before he realized I was a cop, he was very much at ease; and then when I showed him my badge, his whole demeanor changed.

“I tried to get his reaction from a few of the more probing questions I asked; he really lit up when I asked him what record he had of the operations he conducted for AU. Think about it, Fred, that operating table in his area is not in there for nothing. He said he didn’t do any operations. Then I asked him if he had a license to operate. He said no, well, yes. Finally he said his license was applicable to the hospital he worked while he was in Naples. So I said, if you operated here you would be doing so illegally? He said yes, then no, and finally he said he was confused and didn’t know what he was saying.

“What do you think, Fred, should we get a search warrant?” Jim asked.

“Nah, we could never do it. We don’t have adequate justification to even convince a compliant judge to issue it. Let’s cool our heels for awhile and see if something doesn’t come up.”

* * *

The next day Fred thought about all the possible clues that could help him solve the case: Chanel Number 5, Red Chinese, Atwell’s comment about false clues? He now was sure that he knew who the murderer was; but he also knew that he did not have the necessary evidence to prove it. And without proof to capture the killer, he thought, I believe that Maureen’s life would be in constant danger—if for nothing else, then just for her being my wife to be used by the killer as leverage to get to me.

He drove from his house to the high school in Sarasota that Ford had attended. An hour later he was satisfied that his theory was correct; but the evidence was still legally inadequate for a prosecution’s case.

After he returned home, he completed a note and drove to three separate locations. In case he was wrong about his theory, he had secretly placed an envelope on the desk of three of the people he suspected most likely to have single-handedly been responsible for the city’s crime wave. In each case the outside of the envelope was simply addressed For You. Inside was a folded up piece of white bond computer paper. The note, written in a bold red marker, said,“I know who you are! It was signed ‘Lieutenant Harris.’ The annotation sounded like it sprang from the sophomoric dialogue of a teen movie, but Fred knew it would do its job. 

Fred wanted to be close by when the person that he believed was The Marvel opened the envelope. The risk, however, would be too great; he couldn’t chance that. He knew whatever type of emotion reflected on the recipient’s face at the moment the envelope was opened, it still would not elicit any degree of proof that that person was the murderer. What it might do, however, was bring the person out of hiding once and for all.

The chief had said, “Use your intuition,” and that’s what he was doing. Now Fred questioned whether what he was doing was wise. Might he not be releasing the 800 pound gorilla out of its cage with no idea what to do with him? It was too late for reconsideration, someone was entering the area where Fred had placed his last envelope and Fred had to vacate. Good or bad, the deed was done. Although three envelopes had been placed on the desks of suspects, Fred was quite sure he now knew which of the three was definitely the guilty party.