"Potluck tonight, boys."
Cori put a platter of cold fried chicken on the table. Next came a bowl of coleslaw and a basket of bread. Amber followed with a tub of pre-made mashed potatoes in a plastic container and grocery store gravy. Cori surveyed the small table as she announced. "And we've got ice cream for desert."
Detective Morrow, Thomas Lapinski and Finn O'Brien were seated in the space that the real estate agent had said was a dinning room. In reality it was a no-man's land of square footage between the kitchen and the living room.
"'Tis a feast," Finn said as Cori took her seat.
"You should see me when I put my mind to it," Cori laughed even as she realized that one chair was empty. She looked over her shoulder. "Amber, honey, come on out. Time to eat."
When Amber didn't appear, Finn started to get up to fetch her but Cori waved him down.
"I got it."
Cori put her napkin on the table and disappeared into the kitchen. The men filled their plates and made small talk, none of them envious of the position she was in.
"It's a feast for me," Finn said.
"It's been a long while since I've had fried food," Detective Morrow noted. "I tend to prefer eggs and yogurt. Vegetables. I do like a good steak now and again. Sometimes I add a bit of honey to the yogurt."
"It's a wonder no woman has snagged you, Morrow," Thomas said as he reached for the potatoes.
"Thank you, Mr. Lapinski," Morrow answered. "The joke is not lost, but there was never a chance I would be snagged by anything. I was destined to be a perpetual bachelor. Still I can appreciate the draw of matrimony. There are exceptional women in this world."
"Kind of you to say so, Morrow." Cori was back but she was alone. She took her chair and put her napkin on her lap. "Amber doesn't want Tucker to get all excited with the company or she'll never get him to sleep. They'll eat in the kitchen."
The men nodded and fell silent, all fully aware of the strain the two women were under. Cori took a drumstick from the platter, a spoonful of potatoes and a deep breath.
"Okay, enough of that. We're not going to do her any good moanin' like a cow needs milking, so let's figure out how we can do some good."
"Have you ever noticed that, when the three of you are together, it means something really bad has happened," Thomas said.
"Mr. Lapinski, I think you were involved in the Little Ethiopia matter before I was, so that makes your point moot."
"That just might be, Morrow, but this time I can't do you any good. You don't have a picture I can track through my facial recognition software. The guy you've got says he knows a guy who killed a guy and the killer's name is John." Thomas stripped the meat off the chicken leg he was eating and waved the bone. "An incredible unique moniker, I might add. The man in custody doesn't know where John lives. He knows he drives a white truck and he's holding out to tell you where all this took place until you cut him a deal. You don't even know whose blood is on that shirt and, if it's not your guy's, then he's right. You've got nothing. Is that about it?"
"'Tis." Finn motioned for the potatoes.
"But that's why you're here," Cori said. "I wouldn't have popped for dinner if I didn't think the four of us could make something out of nothing. Come on, this guy's the best lead we've got. The only lead."
"While I certainly appreciate this fine meal and your incredible company, I am like the proverbial third wheel folks," Lapinski said. "And, I really don't see how you are going to find a man who's preying on day labor unless you're planning to put a cop on every corner."
"We know he's taken two from the same corner," Cori said.
"And the first time you get close he's going to bolt because he can find those folks in any city in the country," Lapinski argued.
"Does that mean we shouldn't try, Thomas?" Finn put aside his fork.
"No, of course not. But I can see your captain's point. You could spend every waking hour on this and come up with nothing. He doesn't want your billable hours going down a black hole. No return on his investment, you know?"
"And so we do this on our own time while we negotiate with Adolph," Finn said.
"It is an intriguing problem," Detective Morrow said.
"Okay, if Morrow's in then I'm in." Thomas pushed his plate away.
"Let's look at what we do know," Finn said. "We know the killer has a ritual. Shallow graves, some kind of card under the hands, bodies laid out all nice. We've got the victim in Baldwin Hills that we've seen with our own eyes. One other man who arguably was taken out in the same manner and buried but not identified. Palmdale has reported one in the same circumstance, and then we have Father Patrick telling us of the killings in Mexico. Counting Mexico, this seems to go back about three years."
Thomas held up a finger. "It seems to me that the ritual indicates the killer knew his victims. Isn't that the general consensus? That when care is taken there is a personal relationship?"
"That's a general rule of thumb, Mr. Lapinski," Morrow answered. "I don't think it applies here."
"According to the people we talked to in Richland Farms, the men who saw the victims say they didn't seem to be singled out. In the course of any given day people needing workers drive up, point to someone, and the job is accepted," Finn said. "Usually that person is dropped at the same corner but, in this case, they never came back. Add to that, the incidents are spread across Southern California. Even the location in Mexico was literally across the border from San Diego. So it's Palmdale, San Diego and now here."
"Which suggests what?" Thomas challenged them.
"That the man we're looking for travels? A truck driver?" Cori offered.
They had all finished dinner and Amber came to pick up the plates even though Cori told her to leave them. Finn knew the girl needed something to do to keep herself from jumping out of her skin, and soon her comings and goings were forgotten as they talked.
"I'm not thinking so," Finn said. "The bodies are scattered. If it were a trucker I would think we'd be finding them tossed off the freeways or at rest stops where there's easy access. And what cause would he have to come into the city? Finding an isolated place in the city takes time. A truck driver is on a schedule."
Cori reached for an envelope on the credenza. She opened it and distributed Xeroxes as she told them what they were looking at.
"We've identified the printer who manufactures the paper put in the Baldwin Hills grave. That company makes religious cards: Mass cards, condolence cards, saint cards—"
"Holy cards," Finn interrupted. "Those are sort of like religious trading cards. They are often given out to school children for being good or they are available at Mass on the individual saint's holy day."
"We believe they are the smaller, two sided ones," Cori went on. "There appears to be a watermark embedded in those that we think we can match with our piece."
"It looks like a Eucharistic symbol," Finn said. "They'll be sending samples over to the lab for confirmation. So might it be that we're looking for a priest."
"I like that idea," Morrow said as he scanned the information. "Priests are transferred to different parishes quite often. As we know, the Church has had it's share of criminal problems of late."
"The collar would be great cover. These men would trust him," Cori added, warming to her theory. "So he's a priest psycho and he gets the urge, drives to the corners – who wouldn't get in the truck with a guy in a collar? – and off they go. But when the deed is done he feels so guilty that he defaults to his training, buries them and blesses them. Or, maybe he's not psycho. Maybe he has these urges, but he really is a man of god and there's some underlying reason for taking them out."
"And that would be?" Finn asked.
"Maybe he's saving them from earthly pain and sending them to their reward."
Morrow stepped in. "We could narrow a search to parishes in a five mile radius of the victim's last known place of work and find out how many Father John's there are."
"Or just radiate from where Adolph says the man dropped him. There can't be more than one or two Catholic churches in that area," Finn suggested. "But it's not feeling right. We have the shirt this man gave Adolph. It's a normal shirt and Adolph mentioned no collar."
"But there was a Bible in the truck. He said that," Cori reminded him.
"Okay, so not a priest," Lapinski piped up. "But didn't you say the man in custody was dropped at a church rescue? A priest would live at the church, right?"
Finn nodded. "In a rectory, but Adolph wasn't taken to a Catholic church."
Detective Morrow raised a finger. "Are Catholics the only ones to use holy cards?"
"I'm Jewish, what do I know," Lapinski said.
"Let's assume they are. If that's the case, where Adolph was dropped makes no difference. Anyone working in liturgical circles would know where the outreaches are," Finn said. "But if we limit this to Catholics, then that wouldn't rule out a deacon. The Church has had problems finding enough priests to staff the parishes. It could be a lay minister who lives in the parish."
"I prefer that option," Morrow said.
"I prefer people weren't getting killed," Lapinski quipped.
"Okay, let's expand then," Finn went on. "What about a mortician? Wouldn't a mortician also be trained to lay out the bodies just so?"
"You think a mortician is drumming up business?" Cori smirked and then held up her hand. "Sorry, kidding. Anyway, do Catholics have their own mortuaries?"
"There are some that cater to Catholics, but that would be assuming we are talking about holy cards. There are also remembrance cards given at all mortuaries," Morrow said. "And there's the question of movement. I further assume morticians can easily travel to different jurisdictions and work. But would they go so far?"
More shrugs and murmurs. They all knew about the coroner's work but precious little about the people who took the bodies off their hands.
"We've a good list going. What else?" Lapinski asked.
"Could this be a political statement?" Morrow suggested. "The rhetoric against undocumented immigrants has been rather heated in the last year."
"It could be an alt-right group." Lapinski's agreement was tepid at best. That didn't deter Morrow from playing out his theory.
"Perhaps this isn't being done by one person. Perhaps the anti-immigrant movement is making a statement and there are people in each of these regions carrying out a central plan. That would account for the bodies being found so far away from each other. There is no traveling, only a methodical execution of a plan."
"To what end?" Finn asked.
"Education? Extermination?" Morrow answered.
"Simpler than that," Cori said. "Maybe it's plain old terror. Scare the shit out of these folks and send them scurrying back to where they came from."
"Then why murder anyone in Mexico? Those men were already there." Lapinski piped up. "I'm not feeling it. Nope. Nope. Besides, those crazies would want it publicized and the white power groups have been quiet of late."
"But neither have we been looking for such activity so we cannot say that definitely," Detective Morrow reminded them.
"But we can find out. That's an easy search," Thomas said. "I'll put it on the list."
"Keep it far down on the list, Lapinski. I'm not thinking this is some elaborate scheme by the Hitler Youth," Finn said. "The perp is consistent. It's hard to get a group of people to bash a head in exactly the same way. This man seems to methodically stake out his prey and then fairly decapitates his—"
Finn stopped talking and his eyes cut to a place over Cori's shoulder. Amber had come back in the room and was leaning against the wall, holding her sleepy child. Listening to him, the girl had gone white.
"Amber, honey," Cori said when she saw her daughter. "Don't you think it's time you put Tucker down for the night?"
"Do you think…" Amber began but she didn't finish her question. She didn't have to. She wanted to know if they thought that's what happened to Pacal. She looked at each of them in turn and had her answer: they thought exactly that. She muttered a goodnight and left them to their work.
"Damn this is hard," Cori said quietly.
"She knows we're doing what must be done." Morrow assured her.
Finn cleared his throat and began again.
"What if we have a sleeper who has done this before. The killings go without notice for a while, he's found out and fades away and then surfaces somewhere else only to move on before he can be caught."
"Definite possibility," Cori agreed.
"I've only sent local bulletins because the captain hasn't given us an official go ahead. That means all I have back is local. It's a line from Mexico to Palmdale to Los Angeles." Finn looked across the table. "Have you your computer, Thomas?"
"Always." He slid his chair back, retrieved it and then set it up as the conversation continued.
"But that's not a straight line. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to stop in L.A. and then go on to Palmdale?" Morrow asked.
"Wouldn't it make more sense for him not to kill people along the way?" Finn laughed darkly. "Sure, I'm thinking we aren't going to find much sense in any of this even when we finally know the truth. Not to mention the Palmdale victim's report made no mention of a card found with him, and talk of them on the bodies in Mexico could be nothing more than myth."
"Then let's throw caution to the wind and see what we can come up with. I'm open for suggestions. Where shall I start?" Thomas asked.
"How would you go about finding out if there were other murders that involve religious items? Shall we start there? And start with Mexico. Let's see if there's anything solid about the 'ghost'."
"Do you have a name for the village where the men disappeared from," Thomas asked.
Finn shook his head and got out his phone. They all waited while he dialed and said:
"Gregorio. Detective O'Brien. Do you know the name of the village where people say the ghost took his victims?" Finn listened. "Thank you, my friend. No, nothing. Just trying to piece together the person's movements."
He ended the call and said to everyone:
"Puerto Nuevo."
Lapinski started to type.
"Nothing," he said.
"Can you find me a police station in the place?"
Again Lapinski typed.
"It doesn't show up."
"Road trip?" Cori raised a well-shaped brow.
"'Tis a possibility," Finn said. "So what's next?"
"What about the modus operandi? One blow to the head? Using a tool of some sort?" Morrow suggested.
"People bash each other's heads in all the time with tools. I think we'll have more luck with the card thing." Thomas said. "We'll have more luck with specific words. Murder, holy cards – what else could they be called?" Thomas asked.
"Mass cards." Finn said. "And put in Palmdale."
"Mom? You guys want coffee?" Amber was back, standing in the doorway. Her color was high and her chin was up.
"I can get it, sweetie," Cori said.
Amber answered, "I'd like to do something to help. I'll get it."
"I've got the history of mass cards," Thomas said as soon as she had gone back to the kitchen. "I've got murder and the Catholic church. I have information on a number of attacks in churches, but these were done in public by a shooter."
"Could you add something to your search. Assault, perhaps. Our man doesn't use a gun."
"That we know of," Cori reminded him. "
"Well, let's get back to assault," Lapinski said. "If I search that it will expand the universe quite a bit and it would take a lot longer."
"We need to narrow it, not widen," Finn said. "Cori, did you see anything on the security video from McDonalds?'
She shook her head. "I saw our victim go in and come out with a bag. I went through the entire thing. No white truck in the drive-through. The camera doesn't catch the entire parking lot or the corner where he was standing."
"It was a long shot," Finn admitted as he drummed his finger on the tabletop. It was getting late and they were all getting tired.
"You know, the one thing Adolph did say was that our guy is way old." Finn picked up a spoon and let it run through his fingers.
"Adolph could consider thirty way old," Cori said.
"True," Morrow said. "According to you, he said the man could hardly catch his breath. It was hard for him to walk so the man could be any age but appear old because he's sick. He also said the man's face was disfigured and that he was Caucasian."
"Then why the fixation on Latinos?" Cori's question was garbled because her chin was resting in her upturned hand. With the other, she was twirling the saltshaker.
"Easy pickings," Lapinski said offhandedly only to stop typing for a moment. He sat back and spoke almost to himself. "Here's a question. What kind of old guy suddenly becomes a serial killer?"
He looked around the room and was met with blank stares.
"Okay, okay, okay, the answer is no old guy becomes a serial killer. They may grow old killing, they may take time off if things get hot, they might have to move on to keep from drawing attention to themselves. Or maybe they try to go straight – you know, get married, have a family – but it doesn't work, and they start again when they get older. But from what I know – and granted I'm no expert – there is not one instance where someone over, say, the age of fifty just up and became a serial killer. Is there? Can anyone think of one?"
Heads shook, shoulders shrugged and Lapinski was emboldened. He typed furiously talking all the while.
"Okay, okay so hang in with me. Maybe they peak when they're older but they start when they are younger. So why else would a guy like that be off the market, huh?" Thomas grinned and pumped his hands to encourage them to think hard. Finally, Finn had it.
"Prison," he said.
"That's it!" Lapinski pointed a finger at him.
"And let's establish old," Morrow chimed in. "Perhaps fifty-five? Sixty? That would certainly be a place to start."
Thomas's fingers were flying over the keyboard. He scrolled up and down and then typed in some other key words as he spoke.
"And let's say he's been out of commission twenty-five to thirty years."
"That would make him late twenties or early thirties when he was incarcerated." Finn leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"And to that end, given the parameters of time and the religious card and the shallow grave, I have come up with this!" Thomas opened his palms and pointed to his screen. "The Desert Trail Newspaper out of Twenty-Nine Palms—"
"A barren place if there ever was one, " Morrow noted.
"Be that as it may, the date is twenty-seven years ago and the story is buried on page four. A Hispanic girl was found in a shallow grave, on her back, hands crossed over chest and a holy card tucked beneath them." Thomas grinned. He looked at each of them for approval. "Huh? Huh? Lapinski does it again. Right?"
"Dare I point out it is a woman who was the victim?" Detective Morrow said.
"Go with me here, Morrow," Thomas answered. "It's what we've got."
"How did she die," Cori asked.
"Hyperthermia. She basically cooked to death. Oh, and her blood alcohol was off the charts so that didn't help any."
"Hyperthermia," Cori repeated and then chuckled. Morrow blinked behind his glasses and Finn put a hand to his jaw and raised his brows, but Thomas was on a roll and ignored their skepticism.
"Her name was Martina Nuevas. Sixteen years old—"
"A baby," Cori muttered.
"Indeed," Morrow said.
Lapinski kept at it.
"Her mother was a citizen, her father illegal. According to the reports, she went out with friends but never came back. Read between the lines and you get the feeling she was a wild child. Anyway, the family was large, they were used to her going her own way, but when she didn't come home that night for a family party they called the cops. The police found her buried in a shallow grave, laid out like your guy does it."
"I think you're hugging a rose bush, Lapinski," Cori said. "That is a one-off. If the person who was with the girl was even found, arrested and convicted then why would he turn on Hispanic men? If he were released after serving his time as you speculate, and if he were a serial killer, then it would stand to reason that he would go after young girls. Right?"
"I tend to agree," Finn said. "The card is interesting, to be sure, the shallow grave isn't that impressive. What person with a body to hide doesn't love a shallow grave? But I'm having a hard time extrapolating."
"Okay, here we go." Thomas's finger went up to stop the naysayers. If he got any closer to the computer screen he'd be kissing it. "Someone was arrested nine months after the death and then it was another two months to get it to trial." His head popped up. "So much for the speedy trial thing, huh?" His head went down. "John Spears is the man's name. He was a construction worker in his late twenties. The story sort of fizzles out from there and they go straight to sentencing. The judge gave him twenty-five to life. If he's out, he would be in his mid-fifties now."
"Adolph says the man was old and infirmed," Finn reminded him.
"Prison isn't exactly a health spa," Detective Morrow said. "And Adolph did identify the man he met in the mountains as John."
"Do you have a picture, Lapinski?" Cori asked.
"It's not great, but I'll email it to you unless I can hook up to your printer."
"I'll do it." Cori went to him, leaned over and connected his computer to her printer. They could hear the whir as it kicked in. "At least we'll have something to show Adolph."
Finn picked up the phone and called for a rundown on John Spears.
"Amber?" Cori called. "Will you bring me what's in the printer?"
A second later, just as Finn was reaching for a pen and paper, Amber came in with a black and white copy of the newspaper article and the picture of John Spears. She hung back, not wanting to disturb anyone, fixated on Finn as they were.
"Just give me the bottom line and then fax the read-out over," Finn said into the phone. "Yes. Sure, that's very good. Thank you."
When he hung up he was pleased.
"There are sixty four men by the name of John Spears registered with the DMV, but there is only one who drives a white Toyota truck. His full name is John Jamieson Spears. License plate is GRS692. He's got the original black and gold plates, so he'll stand out. The truck was registered to an address in Palmdale two years ago, but it's since lapsed."
"And before that?" Cori asked.
"San Diego," Finn said.
"Awesome." Cori breathed.
"Eh? Eh?" Thomas gloated.
"You're the man, Lapinski," Cori laughed, but her voice was tinged with admiration. "Amber, do you have that article?"
Amber took a step forward and Cori turned around, her hand out but Amber didn't let go when her mother took the paper in hand.
"Is it him?" she whispered. "Did he take Pacal?"
"It's only a hunch," Cori whispered back.
Just then, they heard the printer start again. The DMV information was coming through.
"I'll get it." Amber left before anyone could stop her. When she returned she had copies for each of them. She handed them out and then said, "I'm going to go to bed if that's alright."
Everyone wished her a good night and thanked her for her help. Amber smiled and wished them luck. Then she went to her room where she undressed and got into bed. Before she turned out the light, she took one more look at the copy of the DMV report and the newspaper article that she had made for herself. Folding both, she put them under her pillow for safe keeping because you could never be too careful when your mother was a cop.