Monday morning, June 18th
“Frank Phillips?”
“I’m not interested. I’m going to be late for work, so get out of my way,” Frank ordered as he stared angrily at the man who was blocking the door to his car.
“My name is Lieutenant Dan Mallory, Mr. Phillips, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. I’m sure if you call your boss, he’ll understand. If not, I can call him for you.”
“What’s this about, Lieutenant? I paid the parking ticket last week, in full, and I haven’t gotten any since. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
“Good for you, but I don’t care about any parking tickets. I’m a lieutenant in the homicide department. Unless you want to give your neighbors something new to talk about this week, I suggest we go into your apartment and have our discussion in private.”
Frank stared at the two officers for a moment, then turned and fled towards the back of the apartment building.
“I’ll go to the left,” Mory shouted, sprinting around that side of the building. There was a walkway separating two buildings and Mory saw Frank’s striped shirt flee past. Mory picked up speed as he ran to the next breezeway and turned into it quickly. He grabbed Frank by the sleeve and dragged him around so he could see the man’s face. “It’s not wise to run from the police, Phillips. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. Now, we’ll have to wonder why you didn’t want to talk to us. What are you hiding?”
Dan had pulled his gun and was standing to the side of the two men while Mory placed handcuffs on Frank’s wrists. “Police procedure,” he explained. “That was a really stupid thing to do. Now, you’ll have to talk to us downtown, and your boss is going to be really pissed off.”
Frank’s alarmed gaze darted back and forth between the two officers standing beside him. He felt as if his neighbor’s eyes were boring into his back as he was walked to the unmarked police car and placed in its back seat. He had never been more humiliated in his life. Except when Karen had pressed charges against that man for raping her and everyone had kept asking him how he was doing. “Hey, my woman made it with some other man and everybody knows about it. How the hell do you think I feel?” he’d screamed at Tommy, his best friend. Now, he was handcuffed and on his way to the police station. What the hell could they want with him? Why had he run? They didn’t have anything on him. He’d just been scared when they had confronted him that way; they’d looked so mean. Maybe he’d be able to convince them of that when they gave him a chance to talk. He hoped they wouldn’t have to fingerprint him. That would be even worse. He didn’t think he could stand the humiliation of another public scandal.
Frank Phillips was seated in a hard straight-backed chair next to Dan’s desk. He stared at the two men who had, as yet, refused to take off the handcuffs. They had read him his rights and asked him if he wanted to contact his lawyer. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Take these cuffs off of me; they’re hurting my wrists. What the hell do you think I’m going to do? Run in a building full of cops? That would be stupid.”
“You’ve already done a pretty stupid thing today, so we can’t take any chances. Now, would you like to tell me why you ran when Sergeant Morrison and I told you we needed to ask you some questions?”
“You scared the hell out of me when you said you were from the homicide department and acted so weird. I got home really late last night and I didn’t get much sleep. I was already late for work and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I don’t know why I ran, except I was scared,” Frank finished with what he knew sounded like a lame excuse.
“Scared of what? If you haven’t done anything wrong, why would you be afraid of us? All we wanted to do was talk to you,” Mory said.
“I don’t know. It was like some movie I was watching, except I was the bad guy and I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.”
“Are you sure this has nothing to do with Karen Carter?” Dan decided to test him to see just how much he knew of recent events.
“With Karen? What does she have to do with any of this?” Frank recalled the strange message Tommy had left on his answering machine the night before. He’d been too tired to call him back, but now Frank wished he had taken the time. Tommy had hinted there was something going on with Karen, but hadn’t told him any more than that. Apparently, Tommy had thought Melissa would be upset just hearing Karen’s name, so Tommy simply told him to call after he read the paper. But his had been missing last night. What the hell was going on?
Dan watched the emotions flicker over Frank’s face. Did this young man know anything that had happened this weekend? Dan decided to enlighten him a little bit and watch his reaction. “Ms. Carter was engaged to you at one time, wasn’t she?” At Frank’s nod, he continued, “Why did you call off the engagement?”
Frank’s face flushed. “I don’t think it’s any of the police’s business why we decided not to get married. As far as I know, that isn’t any crime. It’s none of your business, anyway. Why are you asking me about that? It was almost two years ago.”
“The man she accused of raping her was found dead in his apartment,” Dan informed him, though he didn’t relate the crime had occurred almost two months ago. He kept alert to see if Frank dropped any revealing clues about either murder. “He was raped and tortured with hot wax before his death. Except for the fact that he was killed afterward, his injuries match Karen’s to a tee. I think if my woman’s virginity was stolen from us two weeks before we were to be married, and it finally broke up our engagement, I’d be pretty pissed off. But I’m more interested in how you feel about it,” Dan cued him. He had learned from years of interrogating people the best way to evoke information was to state the facts and let the person defend himself.
“Dead? He was killed? What does that have to do with me?” Realization shot through Frank as he struggled with his personal demons. “You think I had something to do with his murder? You think I raped that sick bastard? You’ve lost your mind! I’m engaged to a wonderful girl named Melissa; we’re planning to get married in July. Why would I endanger that to go after someone my ex-girlfriend had sex with? I haven’t spoken to Karen in nearly eight months. If you don’t believe me, ask her.”
“We heard you had a little altercation with Mr. Silverman after Ms. Carter told you what happened. Seems the two of you got into a fight that ended up with you getting a broken nose. That would certainly make anyone I know pretty angry. From your point of view, he made it with your fiancée and then he busted your face. Where were you Friday night?”
“I was at home by myself. I had a pretty rough week and I wasn’t in the mood to go out. Plus, my future wife and I decided to go camping at the lake, so I had to get the tent out and pack the sleeping bags. Yes, I was pissed off after Karen went and slept with that scumbag right before we were supposed to get married, but a fistfight is hardly a crime. Neither one of us pressed charges against the other. I felt much better after I slugged him a couple of times and we let it go there. I haven’t had any more conflict with him since then. Hey, I’m glad I found out what a cheating slut she was before we got married. I’m much better off without her; Melissa isn’t that kind of girl.”
Dan tried to quell his anger. “Can anyone corroborate your story about being home all night? Did your neighbors see you? Did you speak with anyone on the phone?”
“I saw my next door neighbor Friday night when I got home from work. I told her I was planning to go camping Saturday night at the lake and asked her to keep an eye on my apartment. I spoke to Melissa around nine and then I crashed. Melissa came over the next morning around eight and we left soon after that.”
Dan attempted a ploy to trick and entrap Frank if he was their perpetrator. “David Crouch wasn’t murdered until late Friday night, so it would have been easy to go over to his apartment after you got off the phone with your fiancée, or you could have called her from Crouch’s place.”
“Who is Crouch? I thought his name was Ted Silverman.”
“Silverman was murdered on April twentieth. We had another killing with the same MO last Friday night. The victim’s name was David Crouch; he was accused of torturing and raping another female two years ago, but he wasn’t found guilty in court and was released. Crouch’s condition also matched his alleged victim’s.”
“Are you accusing me of two murders?”
“We’re just asking if you know anything about either crime.”
“Hell, no! And you forget one thing, Detective: there needs to be a motive for someone to commit murder and I don’t have one. My life with that cheating bitch has been over for a long time. She didn’t care about me or she wouldn’t have done what she did. So why should I care enough to murder the asshole she fucked? I couldn’t care less about her.”
“Then you haven’t spoken to her?” Mory asked, fury boiling within him.
“No! How many times do I have to tell you that? She fucked up our plans right before the wedding. I doubt she was a virgin when it happened anyway. She just came up with that rape story to cover up what she probably had been doing all along because she knew she would be found out on our wedding night. If she hadn’t created so many lies around her, I wouldn’t have had to face the humiliation I went through. If there’s anyone I would’ve liked to kill at that time, it was Karen, but I’ve moved on with my life and put all of that behind me. If this is why you cops came to talk to me, you’ve wasted your time and mine. If you bother me again, I’ll sue you for harassment.”
Dan said, “We didn’t arrest you, Phillips. We simply wanted to ask you a few questions. The reason why you came downtown in cuffs is because you ran from the police and that gives us any probable cause we need. So you can threaten all you want and call any attorney you want, but I assure you, you don’t have a case.” Dan warned him, infuriated by the man’s insolence and total disregard for the frail and kind woman he had met the other night. She certainly would have been better off without this jerk, but she never really gave herself the chance. After speaking with Ms. Carter and now Phillips, he could imagine the betrayal and shame the young woman must have felt.
Dan got up and walked to the office door in an effort to calm himself. He had a fierce urge to pound some sense into this cold-hearted bastard! The jury had found Silverman not guilty, but Dan was positive Karen had not been a willing participant to rough sex. If anyone should have believed and supported her, it was the man seated near his desk.
“What were you doing on April twentieth?” Mory continued the questions, knowing Dan was trying to get his emotions under control.
“April twentieth? Oh, yeah, that’s the day that scumbag was done in. That was nearly two months ago, so I can’t be sure. I hope I wasn’t home alone again that night, but for certain I wasn’t out raping and killing anybody for Karen. I couldn’t care less what happens to her; she’s gotten everything she deserved for ripping my heart and life apart. I haven’t wanted to talk to her since she came up with that wild story. But as soon as I get out of here, I’m going to call her and tell her precisely that.”
“That won’t be possible, Phillips,” Dan stated as he locked gazes with Frank. “Ms. Carter committed suicide Saturday night. Anything else you’d like to add?”
“Karen is...dead? She...killed herself? Oh my God...” Frank felt his anger dissolve into pain. “I was mad because she ruined our life, but I didn’t want her to die. Oh God. Has anyone called Mrs. Carter yet? I bet she’s torn to pieces. I’d phone her, but I doubt she’d want to hear from me.”
“I agree,” Mory couldn’t resist saying.
“Listen, I didn’t kill that guy. I was angry with Karen for fucking up, but I didn’t kill him. I mean, if she was innocent and told the truth, why did that judge and jury believe him and let him go? She had to be lying, right? I went on with my life without her and I haven’t looked back. I’m sorry she’s dead, but I didn’t have anything to do with avenging her, or that other woman. Should I call a lawyer?”
Dan replied, “You’re not under arrest, Phillips; we just wanted to ask you some questions about the similarities between these recent murders and those past cases. Do you recall anything that might be helpful to us? Anybody who acted suspicious during the investigation or trial? Anyone who said something odd to you or Ms. Carter? Any strange phone calls or letters? Is there anyone who loved her enough to go after justice for her?”
Although he had shaken his head after each query, Frank told him, “Nothing and nobody that I can think of, Lieutenant. Is that all? Can I go now? My boss is probably chewing nails because I’m so late.”
“Mory will contact you later this evening. By then, you’ll have had time to check your calendar, so you can tell him where you were on April twentieth. And, I would advise you not to run the next time an officer wants to talk to you.”
“I’m still a suspect? I told you I don’t know anything about Silverman’s death and I’ve never heard of that other man. I want to take a lie detector test and prove to you I’m telling the truth. Damn that Karen, she’s cursing my life even after her death! Why won’t she go away and leave me alone? Hasn’t she hurt and humiliated me enough?”
Dan wanted to shout, What about the agony and shame and hell Karen went through, you sorry bastard! He couldn’t and he didn’t, but that urge still tempted him. Phillips must have shown more kindness and consideration in the past towards Karen for her to agree to marry him. The rape and the events surrounding it had probably changed him into the bitter, resentful person sitting before him now. “A lie detector test isn’t necessary at this time. If we feel the need for one later, we’ll let you know. I’m going to remove the handcuffs, so you can call your boss to let him know you were delayed. Then we’ll take you back to your car.” He listened as Phillips told his boss he wasn’t feeling well and thought he had some kind of virus but was sure he’d be able to come to work in the morning. Dan couldn’t help but wonder what the conversation would be like between Melissa and Frank that night.
––––––––
Tuesday afternoon, June 19th
Dan and Mory walked into Sands Hardware and glanced around the store. One customer was strolling the aisles, two were standing at the checkout counter, and an older man was working the cash register. Dan and Mory went to the counter and waited until the last person had paid and left.
“Whatcha need?” the elderly man asked. The man’s navy shirt was so stretched over a bulging stomach that it hiked up at his waist and exposed flabby white skin. His baggy khaki pants sorely needed the belt that held them in place. A promotional cap for one of the store’s products almost concealed his white hair. A thick beard and mustache covered much of his lower face.
Mory showed him his badge and stated, “We need to speak with John Priester and was told he works here. Is he in today?”
“He’s s’posed to be in the back unloading boxes. I’ll call him for ya. Hey, John! Somebody’s here to see ya!” he yelled, then lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I’m Oscar Sands, the owner of this store. I hope John hasn’t done anything illegal, ‘cause I don’t need no trouble with the law. I heard some sicko bastard killed one of his best friends the other night, so maybe that’s why he’s been acting real strange lately. Man, what’s this world coming to? Hey, John, get your ass out here!” Sands yelled over his shoulder after he realized they weren’t going to give him any information about their business with his employee.
Dan saw a male who looked to be in his early thirties walk through a doorway at the rear of the store. He was wearing old jeans and a black Harley Davidson t-shirt. Holes were in both garments that were dirty and wrinkled. He wore a hat over greasy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that hung halfway down his back.
As he approached the three men, John spoke around an unlit Marlboro cigarette clenched between his teeth. “What da you guys want? I don’t know you, do I?”
“Are you John Priester?” Dan watched the man rake him with a cocky gaze.
“Yeah, who are you?” John asked as he lit his cigarette.
“I’m Lieutenant Dan Mallory and this is Sergeant Mory Morrison. We’re investigating the murder of your friend, David Crouch, and we’d like to ask you a few questions. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Hell, man, I don’t know nobody who’s sick enough to do that shit! Damn Davey for...” John stopped midsentence and looked at the floor as he took a long drag off the Marlboro and blew the smoke downward. “He was my best friend, ya know? Our old ladies dance t’gether at the club and we’d have some wild parties, ya know? Why’d somebody do that to ‘im? Do ya know who it was?”
Dan asked again in a polite tone. “Is there anywhere we can talk about this in private? We don’t want customers to come in and hear us. What about the stockroom?”
“Nope. The boss is a real shit about people going back there, ain’t cha, Oscar? Whaddya need to talk to me about? I ain’t done nutting wrong, so ya can say whatcha gotta say in front of ‘im.”
“Do you know anyone who would want to kill your friend? Was anybody angry with him that you knew about? Had he gotten into a recent fight with someone?”
John puffed on his cigarette before he answered, “Naw, Davey was wild, but he never bothered nobody, ya know? The papers said somebody kilt him on a ‘cause of that gal who said he raped her.”
“What do you know about that incident, Mr. Priester? Didn’t you claim he was with you that night?”
“Sure as shit was, man. We was out having a beer or two, ya know? The little cunt kept coming up to Davey all night and saying how she’d like to take him home and all. He told her he was married, but that didn’t stop her none. She wanted him real bad, ya know? So we left awhile later, ‘cause she wouldn’t let us drink in peace. Davey ‘bout died of fear when the cops came and hauled him off to jail. Lying bitch! This is all her fault.” He tossed the unfinished Marlboro on the floor and mashed it with his shoe.
“He was with you all night?” Mory asked, doubtful this man was telling the truth.
“Yeah, man, all night, like I said before. We passed out cold when we got to Davey’s place. His bitch was pissed ‘cause he didn’ go see her new outfit. She beat the shit out of ‘im. Davey just laughed at her and told her to fuck off. She was real sorry later when she found out he didn’t do that cunt and she’d done gone and roughed ‘im up a bit.”
“Where were you last Friday night, Mr. Priester?”
“I was watchin’ my old lady strut her stuff, man. She was flappin’ them big ol’ titties and cute little ass all over that stage. She’s hot, ya know? You should come watch her sometime. She’s good, ain’t she, Oscar? Every man who sees her wants to fuck her bad, even the boss, don’t ya, Oscar?”
“I wouldn’t mind a go at her, but I ain’t taking your leftovers.”
John laughed and looked at the two officers. Neither was smiling at his crude joke and that made him edgy. What the hell did they want from him? He stopped smiling and leaned against the counter to help still his shakes.
Hoping to make John nervous by his confident tone and look, Dan asked, “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us, Mr. Priester?”
John lit another cigarette. “About what? I done told ya, I don’t know no fucking homos. Them peoples is sick, man. I hope ya git the bastard and turn ‘im over to the boys in the big house. That’d teach ‘im a lesson or two, ya know?”
Dan handed John his card, thanked him for his time and asked him to call if he thought of anybody they needed to check out or anything they needed to know about either case: Crouch’s or Ms. Starnes’s.
As soon as they pulled away from the curb, Mory said, “That little shit is lying through his teeth. I’d like to send him to the big house for a lesson of his own.”
“So would I, partner, but that isn’t up to us, unless we can prove he perjured himself, or he had something to do with our two homicides.”
John Priester stood near the front door and watched the two men drive away. He took a deep drag on the Marlboro, flicked the butt to the floor and stomped on it. Damn, cops made him nervous! Damn Davey for fucking that girl. He’d told the horny bastard to leave her alone, that she wasn’t nothing but trouble. Davey had laughed and said nobody would believe her and he’d been right. But now he was dead. Fucking dead! John wanted to laugh at his own joke, but he was worried the “Avenger” was going to come looking for him, too. Recalling what the “Avenger” had done to David, he knew he couldn’t deal with that fate. Maybe he ought to leave town. He headed to the stockroom to decide what he was going to do.
Minutes later, John was standing in the open back door when the first bullet hit him in the chest. The second and third struck him in his stomach as his body jerked backwards from each blast. He couldn’t yell for help or staunch the rapid blood flow. Or stop the darkness overtaking his eyes and brain. John Priester collapsed to the floor, dead on impact.