Read Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set Online

Authors: Bob Moats

Tags: #Mystery: Thriller - Senior Sleuth

Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set (6 page)

 

“Damn, George with a badge. That’s like the reformed drunk owning a bar. OK, George, I guess I’m all right with your reformation. Richards, keep me informed.” He smiled, saluted Buck and walked off.

 

“He was one of the few cops that did treat me nicely, but he’s still a cop,” Buck said to the window.

 

“If you got the time and can get over your past, I’d like to take a run by an address I have,” I said.

 

“Where to, Spen-sahh?” he mocked.

 

I grinned at the reference. “To visit a cheerleader who hopefully is still alive.”

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

We drove out of the city, just north of Mt. Clemens, and according to my map program on my Palm, we found the address. It was a beat up farmhouse looking like no one gave a crap whether it was falling down or not. The battered sign out front said “Sue’s Beauty Shop.” I presumed the shop was set up in the front of the house, so we went to the door.

 

The sign on the door said to walk in and be seated. We did. There was no one in the room. It had two styling chairs in front of two sinks and counters with all the stuff to cut, curl and tease a woman’s hair. An elderly woman came out from where I presumed was the house part of the building and just looked at us.

 

“I don’t do men’s hair. Besides, both of you are bald, so what do ya want?”

 

I looked at her through the wrinkles and gaudy make-up and realized I was looking at Sue Carter, the head cheerleader and the Prom Queen. She now looked like a drag queen. I stood up.

 

“Sue, you probably don’t remember me. Jim Richards, from our class in high school?”

 

“Yeah, I think I do. You were always running around with a camera.” Her gaze looked a bit alcohol induced.

 

“Yep, that was me. Could I ask you a few questions?”

 

“Why, you a cop?” she slurred.

 

“No, just a friend of Dee Wittenfield and Joyce Harper.”

 

Her eyes perked up a bit on hearing that.

 

“Wow, there’s two names I haven’t heard in a while. What are those two bitches up to?” She sat on one of the styling chairs and lit a cigarette.

 

“Well, they’re both dead.” I could have said it politer, but I didn’t want to beat around the bush.

 

That seemed to shake her just a bit. “No shit! Old age?”

 

“No, murdered. Both within the last two days.”

 

That really shook her. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth slowly opened, but no sound came out. The cigarette hung off her lip.

 

“And Marge Holden was killed this morning at her business.” She sat quietly. “Seems someone is after the cheerleaders, huh, Sue?”

 

She seemed to be thinking.

 

I got closer and asked, “Have you gotten any threatening emails lately that you thought might be a joke?”

 

“Honey, I don’t get the internet out here. Hell, I can’t even get cable.”

 

No internet? How was the killer going to reach this one?

 

“Oh, God, it’s him! I knew he’d get back at us!” She looked panicky and started to gag. The cigarette fell to the floor. I turned the chair toward the sink, and she held her head over but didn’t puke. I crushed out the cigarette with my foot. She held there for a minute then continued, “He threatened all of us so long ago. I waited for him to strike, but not after all these years. Why now?”

 

“Who are you talking about, Sue?”

 

“Mr. Rocco, the gym teacher.” She gagged again, but nothing surfaced.

 

I remembered him, Nathan Rocco, and how he left the school one day and vanished. There was no talk about why. It was all pretty hushed. Sue turned in the chair and looked at me with dull eyes.

 

“We did it. We didn’t like him and wanted to get rid of him. I knew this would finally bite us in the ass. But not murder. God, am I in danger?”

 

“Sue, calm down and tell me what happened.”

 

“Senior year, the six of us cheerleaders were fed up with his pandering and treatment of Mrs. Stone, our gym teacher and cheerleader advisor. He was a mean, rotten man and deserved to be accused of sexual misconduct. We told the principal, Mr. Varga, that he had attempted to molest each of us at different times and we were afraid to say anything. But all of us together figured safety in numbers.”

 

I sat in the other styling chair and listened.

 

“The police were called in, they took him to the station and they worked him over good before turning him loose. No charges were made because it was all on our word. They had no proof. He was fired from the job and left the state, but not before he told Linda Grolich that he would get back at us one day. Oh, man, it’s come. We lied about it, and he knew we did!”

 

I was shocked that Dee and Joyce would have gone along with this plot to ruin a man, even if he was bad. I was now sixty, so Rocco would have to be in his eighties or older by now. It didn’t fit the person we thought was the killer. Did he have a helper?

 

“My life has been crap since I got out of high school. I married Darrien York, the big bad football jock. You know…the jock and the head cheerleader. Same old story. He was a bum without his football, couldn’t hold a job for more than a year. We drifted from place to place, keeping ahead of the evictions. I finally went to beauty school and got my license. The money was lousy, and then I inherited this shack from my Dad when he died. I opened up shop here, looser zoning laws out here in the county. And here I’ve been for the last ten years. Darrien left me for some slut he met in a bar. Good riddance. Now this. I’d welcome death right now.” Her eyes watered, and she got up and went into the other room.

 

Buck said from behind me, “The plot thickens.”

 

“I got to let Trapper know about this.” I pulled out my cell phone just as Sue’s phone rang a couple times. I waited, and then I heard Sue let out a low scream. She came running back into the shop.

 

“The voice on the phone said I was next to die!! Oh, my God!” She fell to the floor, curling up in a ball and bawling like a baby. I told Buck to help her up to the chair. He did.

 

I dialed the number Trapper gave me. After a couple rings he came on. “What now Richards?”

 

“Where are you?” I asked.

 

“Looking for Penny Wickens. Who’s crying?”

 

“Long story, I’m with a cheerleader and she got a new threat. I think you need to get here fast and with reinforcements.”

 

“You’re still investigating! I’ll deal with that later, where are you?”

 

I gave him the address and he said, “That’s not in my jurisdiction, I’ll call the Sheriff’s and have them meet us. Don’t do anything else, I mean it, just wait.” He hung up.

 

I looked at her phone. She had caller ID. I went back through the list and wrote down the last number that came up. After about a half hour, the sheriff rolled in followed closely by Trapper and Officer Becker. Sue was a bit more in control, and Buck was soothing her. As soon as Buck saw all the cops, he excused himself from Sue and moved over to a corner of the room where he sat quietly and unobtrusively in a chair.

 

“Richards, I told you not to investigate!” Trapper growled.

 

“I was just visiting an old school friend when all this happened.”

 

Trapper took one look at Sue’s terrified expression and turned to his deputy. “Take her into the other room to rest, but stay with her.” He moved over to me.
“What’s the word?”

 

The sheriff moved next to Trapper as I filled them in on what I knew. I told him about the cheerleader’s charges against Nathan Rocco and as much as I could remember about him from school.

 

Trapper told Becker “Get on the radio to the station and see what he could find out about Nathan Rocco and to make sure that the last two women on the list were given protection.”

 

I stopped Becker and gave him the number off the caller ID.
“You may want to check where it came from.”

 

Trapper frowned at me. “Who’s in charge here?”

 

I said, “Time is fleeting.”

 

He ignored me. “If Rocco was accused of sexual misconduct, he might be in the registry. Sheriff, if you don’t mind giving me jurisdiction on this, it ties in with three murders I got going now.”

 

The sheriff was more than happy to avoid the paper work and said so. Trapper went into what was the living room of the house and sat down next to Sue. She looked slightly better than 15 minutes ago.

 

“Miss Carter, what exactly did the voice say on the phone?”

 

“It’s Mrs. York, or was, but you can call me Sue. I said hello, and I heard some breathing then a voice said ‘Sue Carter, you are the fourth classmate to die. Congratulations.’ That was all. He hung up.

 

“Well, it’s him. This time he’s not getting in or out,” Trapper said emphatically. “We are going to need a few men from your office, Sheriff, if you can spare them.” The sheriff said no problem, and Trapper went on, “I’m going to put in a couple of mine, too, station them around outside if need be. He’s going to slip up, I’m sure of it, and we’ll get him.”

 

I looked at my watch. Time had just whizzed by, and I had to get back to the house to help put Dad to bed. I excused myself and asked Buck to drive me home. As we were heading out the sheriff stopped Buck and asked, “Hold on there. You Buck Carson?”

 

Buck said he was and waited for some kind of crap.

 

The sheriff grinned, threw his arm around Buck’s shoulder and said, “Hell, boy, I went to school with your older brother Mark. How is the old fart?”

 

Trapper had a look that said he was not amused that an officer of the law was being friendly with Buck, but he let it go. Nothing he could do.

 

Buck replied, “Mark is doing well. He’s been married, second time, about ten years now, four kids and living up in Anchorville. He’s a fireman for the county.”

 

“Damn. Mark and I used to get in heaps of trouble when we were young. I haven’t seen you since you were just head high to my waist. I heard you were a little hell raiser, too.” Buck grinned. Trapper grimaced. “Tell Mark that Tate Wallace said howdy.”

 

“I’ll do that, Sheriff.” Buck smiled.

 

“Hell, call me Tate. We’re like family. Have that old coot call me sometime.” He handed Buck his card. “Nice to catch up with him.”

 

“Sure enough, Tate. I’ll call him tomorrow,” Buck said. They shook hands, and he gave that big walrus smile to Trapper as we headed out.

 

Outside by the car I said, “I’ll bet that just made your day.”

 

“Sho nuff.” Buck grinned, and we left the property.

 

Driving down Groesbeck Hwy., we sat quietly, reflecting on what had happened.

 

“You think the killer will try a hit on Sue? With the city and county cops hovering around?” Buck inquired.

 

“Well, he was gutsy enough to kill three other women while they were hovering. I guess he likes a challenge. But the cops are really on the watch for him now. I doubt he will slip through,” I said with my head back on the rest, totally wiped out from the day.

 

At one time, in years past, I’d be wired for more to do and probably end up the evening at some bar, dancing the night away. Now I wanted to crawl into bed and just hide my head under the pillow. Growing up sucks. My mind went back over the day, murder and mayhem. I enjoyed reading about it but was it worth being right in the middle of the real thing? I had talked to a woman from my past just an hour before she was brutally murdered, not a pleasant memory.

 

“What are you going to do now, Spen-sahh?” Buck broke my thoughts.

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