“How can I help you, Mrs. Russell?”
“Please, call me Janice. I’m Mrs. Russell all day long and it’s nice to be ‘Janice’ when I leave school.”
“You’re a teacher then.”
“A high school English teacher in Point Pleasant, Ohio. I’m in my thirty sixth year. I still love it but the way young people have changed over the years, I sometimes wonder if I’m in your profession rather than my own.”
Moffat smiled. He sometimes thought that criminals were better behaved when he started policing nearly a quarter of a century ago.
“Well, Captain, I came into town last Friday and was with my uncle when he died. He wasn’t completely lucid. He called me by my late mother’s name, usually, but he held my hand and I think it made him feel a bit better during his last day…that is, to know that ‘family’ was with him.’
“I met Catherine and Martha at the house on Saturday morning. They were both very nice and I am truly grateful for the care they gave my uncle.” Janice paused and seemed to be weighing an issue in her mind. Then she seemed to be cheered by a sudden thought.
“Actually, it was Mrs. Pane who, indirectly led me to you. She told me about the murder and the nice Captain who came to the house to interview them. When I learned you had visited my uncle two days before I saw him and that you knew the Panes, I thought you might be in a position to help me with my problem.”
“So you don’t really have any information about the crime I’m investigating?”
“No. I may have let the Desk Sergeant assume I did to get through to your office. Mostly, I used this to convince him to let me see you. It’s my son’s.”
She removed a business card from a pocket in her purse and handed it to Moffat. It read:
* * *
Jeremy Russell
Chief of Police
Middleport, Ohio
* * *
“You know police moms do get special treatment sometimes,” she said, smiling.
“I thought you seemed rather comfortable around a police station.”
“It’s just a small town but it’s still a difficult job. My daughter-in-law and I enjoy helping out. We try to show my son’s officers that someone appreciates all they do for us.”
Moffat smiled again. He had thought it unusual that the Desk Sergeant would not have sent her to a lower ranking officer. He could imagine that Janice’s presentation of the business card changed everything.
“You were about to tell about a problem.”
“Yes. I spoke to my uncle’s lawyer and to the insurance agent who took over his office when he retired. Everything was as I expected with the attorney but the agent told me my uncle had changed a beneficiary of his life insurance on Tuesday of last week. The death benefit is three quarters of a million. Now $400,000 of that is to go to Reverend Arthur Pane.”
“Hmm.” Moffat leaned back in his chair. “That must have come as a surprise.”
Janice laughed. “That’s an understatement. I think Martha may have heard me call the insurance agent, because ten minutes after I hung up the phone, her husband showed up at the house. He was very mild mannered and sweet tempered, holding his hat in his hand as he told me what a wonderful man my uncle was and that he had been very fond of me. He brought up the subject of the bequest himself saying my uncle was very grateful for the care and affection they had shown him and, even though he wasn’t as religious as Betty Jane, my uncle wished to see the Panes continue the good work of their church. Well, I never tipped my hand. I just thanked him for his kind words. But I would have had a few words for him that a sweet old schoolteacher shouldn’t be using. You see, I think it is wrong for someone to abuse his special position as a minister for personal gain. I don’t like it when these preachers decide it’s God’s Will for them to help themselves to someone else’s property. You see it all the time.” Showing some emotion for the first time in their interview, see seemed suddenly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t mean to offend you. Are you a religious person yourself?”
“No.”
“Well, I know it’s not right to paint all priests and ministers with the same brush.”
“When I saw your uncle on Wednesday, he was only semi-conscious. I can’t imagine that he was in any condition to handle matters of his estate at that time.”
“I thought the same, based on seeing him Friday and Saturday. Apparently, the previous weekend he was much more lucid. The insurance agent assured me that my uncle gave him direction for the change in beneficiaries and knew what he was doing when he signed the form.” She shook her head and sighed. “Captain, isn’t there a law in this state that prevents caregivers from coercing sick people into changing their wills?”
“I’m not sure. It might apply only to those who are paid for their service, not volunteers. Don’t you think you should consult an attorney on this?”
“I will if I have to but I hate to be forced to spend a significant part of my uncle’s estate defending it from people like Reverend Pane. I am angry with him but disappointed with her. She seemed so nice when I met her. She fed me as soon as I arrived and did her best to cheer me up. I think her husband is the one doing the hanky panky here, Captain.” She paused then added “Oh, and here’s another piece of evidence for you. If my uncle was so grateful for the care he received, whey didn’t he leave anything to Catherine? Martha told me herself that Catherine had given just as much of her time to his care as she had. I think he and Catherine had grown close as well.”
“I understand how you feel, Janice, but what is it you think I can do about it? This sounds like a matter for a civil court.”
“He was so shifty, I know he’s hiding something. I thought, maybe, if you could apply some pressure, he might think better of it and give up his claim.”
“I can’t do that. Not even for a fellow policeman’s mother.” She looked disappointed. Moffat considered carefully then said, “Janice, I can’t pressure Reverend Pane but the situation you describe does raise some questions. I will ask both the Panes about the events that led up to your uncle’s action but please don’t expect any specific results. Once people have their fingers on a lot of money, they rarely let go without a fight.”
Janice seemed satisfied. It appeared she had realistic expectations for her visit with Moffat He thought she might have just been placing a long shot bet in calling on him. He guessed that she would soon consult an attorney with the appropriate background.
“You know, Captain, I feel a little guilty myself, inheriting everything from my uncle. We were never all that close. I saw him only about seven times after he moved out west. We drove out one time when my son was small. Uncle Lewis took an immediate liking to Jeremy. Other than that, it was mostly just Christmas cards once a year. When Betty Jane became sick, I phoned often but I couldn’t make it out for the funeral. I wish we had seen more of them. He would have liked to know Jeremy as an adult, I think.”
“Janice, are there no other siblings, nieces or nephews?”
“No. My mother was ten years older than Uncle Lewis. I was an only child and so was Betty Jane. You know, a small family can be kind of lonely once people start to die. We only had the one child too.” Then her face lit up with pleasure. “Thank heavens my son and daughter-in-law broke the pattern. They have four, two adopted.”
“That’s very admirable. There are a lot of kids who need a good home.”
“Do you have children, Captain?”
“My wife and I have a great daughter. She was kind of a handful and…I worked such long hours, we put off having another one for a few years and then it seemed too late, that there would be too big of an age difference. We even talked about adopting but the years went by and we never made the decision.”
“You still could.”
Moffat laughed. “No. I think I’m too old to start again.”
She smiled. “I know what your mean. It’s much easier being a grandparent. You give them back to their mother
and father when you get tired. I hope you’ll enjoy that experience before too long.” She laughed then added, “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
Here I am letting the subject lead the interview, Moffat thought to himself. “The obituary said that your uncle was born May 8, 1930. Did you provide that information to the Ledger Dispatch?”
“Yes. I called my husband to check my grandmother’s family Bible. He gave me Lewis’ birth date and place of birth.”
“Did you know much about your uncle’s military experience?”
“No. My grandmother and mother never mentioned it. I don’t remember Uncle Lewis ever talking about it. The reporter had a lot of biographical information from an old article about my uncle… from 1974, I think, when he ran for the state legislature. He was endorsed by Ronald Reagan. That’s where the photo in his study came from - the one of Reagan and him. Reagan was governor at the time, I think. Uncle Lewis lost though. Do you think any of this is related to your investigation?”
“Probably not. How long will you be staying here, Janice?”
“I have to stay another week to put the house on the market.” A mischievous smile crossed her face. “Do you know any good real estate agents, Captain Moffat?”
Moffat laughed. “I know she wasn’t popular with some people.”
“Whew, that’s another understatement. You should have heard the very Christian Reverend and Mrs. Pane talking about you murder victim. They seemed to have forgotten some of the lessons of the New Testament when it came to her. They hit her with most of the Ten Commandments and all but one of the seven deadly sins, as far as I could keep up.”
“Well, I can tell you that there were some nice things said at her memorial service.”
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER 27
The meeting with Janice Russell had been a pleasant one, though Moffat wasn’t sure if it had any value for his investigation. He had thought there was something that didn’t quite fit in Lewis Franke’s obituary. When Franke’s niece confirmed that, it didn’t really clarify anything. He was pleased to get back to the team where it felt like they were on the verge of a step forward.
There hadn’t been many changes in position since Moffat left. Fat was still at the computer, moving the cursor to reveal new satellite views of the city and county in response to new addresses being read out by De la Peña and the rest of the team. The other members seemed to be rotating between the photographs on the bulletin board and the detailed street map posted nearby, with occasional brief rests seated or leaning at the edges of one of the two tables nearest the side of the room.
“We’ve almost finished viewing each of the victims’ homes,” De la Peña told Moffat “We started to think it might be living in older places that would tie together the cases. Then we thought it might also be living on the first floor. Davies, Price and Robin Knight--the 1998 missing person in whose home the bloodstain was discovered--had those two things in common. Some of the others also lived in those types of places. Mrs. Grubb has been typing in descriptions of the homes as Schoenberg and Lang provide them.”
“So far, they’ve got them all,” Tashara added. “Let’s see if they can get a perfect score. Here’s the next one. Missing person. 1980. Resided at 148 Sierra Wood Circle.”
Lang and Schoenberg looked at each other. Lang waved an open hand for his partner to take this one. “That’s one unit of a duplex one block from the main highway. Single story, it would have been fairly new then.”
“Here it is,” Fat called from behind them.
Schoenberg pointed to the projection screen. “See, it’s a circle street. That address is at the top left as the road starts to curve back to the highway. There are homes behind it now, but there weren’t in 1980.”
“Here’s our last missing person case: 1979. Resided at unit T12, 25716 Old Highway 49, Segovia. Oh, wait, you already got that location. This is a second one at that address, different building.”
“That’s the big singles complex, Captain,” Lang said. “This one’s in the corner. Doesn’t face the artificial lake. First story. The place was new then.”
“That’s near where Sergeant De la Peña lives.” Tashara stroked her chin and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Where were you in 1979, sir?”
“Oh, no,” De la Peña laughed. “It’s all a blank.”
“No alibi,” Fat called out from behind them.
Tashara returned to the database. “The next one is the oldest of the three rapes cases, 1975. The one with the DNA match to the blood drops found at the home of the 1998 missing person. The rape victim was attacked in the library parking lot but she lived at 13115 Tioga Way.”
“That’s a single family home about six miles out of town.” Lang provided this information then looked to the screen to wait for Fat. He continued, “It’s a fairly large home.”
“She lived with her parents. This one doesn’t fit the single story, woman alone pattern but the DNA links it to the 1998 missing person which does,” Duncan observed.
“OK, next to the last one, Tashara,” De la Peña said.
“Yes, 1973, indecent exposure. Victim was accosted in the parking lot of the college. She lived in the dorm, second floor, with three other girls.” Tashara paused then added, “Maybe that one’s not related. It doesn’t seem to fit.’
Duncan countered. “He might have been just getting started. Maybe he was working his way up. Don’t forget, the victim’s description of him was a tall, dark-haired guy.”
“Good, let’s get back to this discussion when we finish,” Moffat said then turning to Tashara, “What’s the last one?”
“Murder victim, 1970. Killed in the old Administration Building Annex. Lived at 1718 Old Highway 49, apartment 237.”
“That’s interesting, Captain,” Lang said with a smug air. “Do you know where those locations are?”
“No.”
“Well, she lived just outside of town. She was killed in a building that was torn down in the 1980’s to make room for the parking lot right out front.”
For a moment there was silence. Moffat said nothing but his subordinates thought he wore a troubled expression. Tashara broke the silence.
“It doesn’t fit the pattern, does it? I mean, it’s not a missing person or a sex crime. She was killed in an office building and she wasn’t blonde. Doesn’t fit.
“No, I guess not,” Moffat said.
Jane Duncan spoke next. “Captain, can we talk about all the cases now? Maybe talk about what we think we might have?”
“Yes. Let’s get on with looking for commonalities. Did you have an idea?”
“Well, sort of. The exhibitionist and the rapist…they could be the same man based on physical description. Couldn’t it be a case of where he started with different crimes then worked his way up to murder?”
Fat had joined the group. “We think these missing women are murder victims, don’t we?”
“I think most of them are, yes,” Moffat explained. “Otherwise, we would have had some trace of them in all these years. He entered Nicole Davies’ home with a syringe full of azaperone that would have made her unconscious. If it was the same man who was responsible for Amy Price’s disappearance, it seems likely he intended to remove Davies from her home.”
Duncan returned to her question. “Do serial killers start out with lesser crimes?”
“Yes, that is fairly common. Of course, they don’t become serial killers unless they are skilled in avoiding detection.”
“So,” Duncan continued, “The tall dark haired man could have developed his pattern of going after women alone in old, first story apartments or houses after he attacked the first two.”
“He must have,” Fat responded, “Because the rape and the missing person are connected and the Price and another missing person - the one with the dog hair in the stocking cap - are connected and Price and Davies are connected. Davies, the exhibitionist and the rapist are connected at least in the description of the assailant as tall
and Caucasian.”
“Those are legitimate assumptions,” Moffat said.
“What about the ages?” Fat asked. “Davies is only thirty four. Can we eliminate all the missing persons and victims who are much older than her?”
“Yeah, look at the ages,” De la Peña said with enthusiasm. “These first two were quite a bit younger. Remember we noticed that Nicole was attacked three years after Amy Price and she was three years older at the time.”
Schoenberg spoke. “That could be a coincidence. When you’re over forty, a thirty four year old woman looks pretty young. I’m really bad at guessing women’s ages. My ex-wife turned out to be five years older than she told me when we met.”
“Some policeman,” Tashara teased.
“What if I plot a curve connecting the ages of the indecent exposure and rape victims with Davies, Price and the other two missing persons?” Fat suggested. “That would give us an age-adjusted curve to compare with the other victims.”
“Huh?” Schoenberg and Lang said together.
Fat explained that the curve would account for the perpetrator’s changing preference and would enable the team to exclude victim’s who were too young or too old at the time of their disappearance.
Lang rolled his eyes. Schoenberg shook his head. Moffat said “Why don’t you go ahead and plot the ages by year and we’ll consider excluding cases that fall out of a certain band.”
“Sounds like a waste of time,” Schoenberg said.
“Possibly. Getting back to living conditions… What do these old, first story homes have in common?”
“Easy to break in to,” De la Peña answered first.
“Creaky floorboards,” Tashara offered.
“That would be a deterrent,” Fat shouted, returned now to his seat in front of his computer. “I’d hear him coming in the back and I’d run out the front screaming.”
“Bad plumbing,” Peake said. “I’m always having to call my landlord about leaking faucets or water heater problems.”
“What about laundry facilities?” Moffat asked the team.
From De la Peña came “Yeah. Nicole went to the laundromat just before she was attacked.”