The Poll Bearer Part 24 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

He looked at Richie to see if he was buying any of the story.

            “I’d never ask you, but I didn’t know where else to turn,” Dan said trying to play on Richie’s sympathies.

            “Are you leveling with me?” Richie asked staring Dan in the eyes.

            “I swear I am,” Dan lied, trying to put on a face of sincerity.

            “Okay, but you just hurt the guy…not seriously, just to teach him a lesson.” Richie replied.

            Dan hated to lie to his brother, but he knew that Louis and Slate were bigger problems right now. Harming Slate would at least buy him time to figure out a new strategy.

CHAPTER 21     

            They drove toward Slate’s house and parked one block away. Putting on their makeshift costumes, they walked the remaining distance to Slate’s house and went to his side door. From observation, Dan knew that Slate hid a key beneath a flower pot on the side of the steps. He and Richie pulled the nylon stockings over their faces obscuring their looks, put on the rubber work gloves, and took out the key. Carefully inserting it into the lock, Dan quietly opened the door and silently entered followed by Richie. They heard noises from the television set in the living room down the hall. Before they left Dan’s car, he had looked on the tablet and had seen Slate sitting in his chair dozing off in front of the TV. Assuming he was still there, Dan led his brother slowly and quietly down the hall until they were just outside the open door. As he rounded the corner expecting to see the sleeping figure of his victim right in front of him, Dan was shocked to see that no one was in the room. Suddenly from the bathroom door in the hall, Slate stepped out putting himself directly behind Richie.

            “What the hell?” Slate yelled surprised to find intruders in his hallway.

            Richie whirled around at the sound and leaped forward onto Slate, the momentum taking both men to the floor. As Slate struggled to get up, Richie tried to grad the man’s flailing arms, but was only successful in pinning one down. With the other, Slate struck out wildly as he tried to twist his body free from Richie’s weight. Dan ran to the scene and tried to grab Slate’s free hand seeing that it was pounding Richie on the back. Slate tried to free a leg and kick causing Richie to lose his grip on the right arm. With one hand now free, Slate grabbed at Dan’s face getting hold of the stocking and ripping it so that it dangled loosely around Dan’s neck exposing his features. Richie re-entered the fray trying to avoid the kicking legs and to assist his brother in pinning down Slate’s arms.

            “Turn him!” Dan screamed figuring if they could get Slate face down, it would lessen his ability to rain blows down on them. Richie pressed his own weight against the wall and used his chest to try to turn the man while Dan pulled on the other arm. With luck, they managed to get Slate face down with Richie lying across his back putting his full weight onto Slate. Dan let go of the arm he was holding seeing that Slate couldn’t lash backward. Instead, Slate tried to do a push up of sorts to straighten himself out, but the weight on his back was too great even with the adrenalin rush he was having. Dan shifted his attention to Slate’s right knee. Putting his heel against Andrew’s upper thigh, Dan grabbed Slate’s ankle and pulled sideways eliciting a loud scream from the victim. Much of the fight went out of the man as Dan yanked again feeling something in the knee give way.

            “Enough!” Dan yelled; and Richie slid off Slate’s back and stood up.

            Slate was screaming in pain on the floor trying to twist his body the opposite way so he could use his hands and arms to support his knee while Dan stood up. Slate managed to look up at his attackers just before they both fled out the side door. Pulling off what remained of the stocking, Dan raced back to the car and the two brothers sped away.

            “I think he saw you,” Richie said as he drove into the night. “Is that big trouble?”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Dan replied, his heart practically pounding out of his chest. But he was worrying about it. Now Slate knew that he was the same man who had pretended to be a drunk driver the other night when he broke up Slate’s murder plan. There was no doubt in Dan’s mind that Slate knew this was no coincidence. While he had disabled Slate, Dan knew that Andrew would do everything in his power to find him.

            Back at the big room monitoring station, Dan saw that Slate had managed to drag himself to a phone and had called an ambulance. Since there were no police cars that showed up at the home, Dan surmised that Slate told the EMTs that he had fallen. Eventually, they carted him out, and Dan assumed he’d be in the hospital for a few days. There was no longer any reason for him to stay monitoring an empty house.

            The next morning Louis was already in Dan’s office when he arrived.

            “Where the hell is he?” Louis demanded angrily. “He isn’t home and the markers in his clothes say he’s in the hospital. What the hell is going on here?”

            “He fell and injured himself,” Dan said trying to reassure the enraged man that the ocean of money was still safe. “In fact, it could be good for us. He’ll have to stay home to recuperate, and that’ll mean more television time. We can slip in more test commercials.”

            Although he still couldn’t see why Slate’s injury was the blessing Dan had said it was, Louis calmed down.

            “We’re losing money while he’s in the hospital,” Louis barked, more to take the onus off himself for rushing down so quickly without thinking things through. “When’s he going to be released?”

            “Should be a day or two,” Dan said. “It doesn’t appear to be more than a sprain.”

            “He better be,” Louis said going to the door. ‘Remember, don’t screw this up.”

            After he left those very words were going through Dan’s mind. Had he already screwed it up? There were too many people in the city for Slate to ever see Dan’s face again, but what if he had gotten Dan’s license plate the other night when he was staking out the woman. That could be traced. Dan realized that he was going to have to watch Mr. Slate even closer than he had before, if that were even possible.

The Poll Bearer Part 23 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

CHAPTER 20

            It wasn’t until early afternoon when the woman’s body was found by a co-worker who had gone to check why the woman wasn’t answering the phone. The reports were that the crime scene was especially gory and showed a brutality even more horrendous than the previous murders. Her face was almost unrecognizable, and the carnage extended from the living room into the kitchen. Even seasoned detectives were overcome by the savagery of the attack.

            There was no doubt in Dan’s mind that Slate was the killer and that he was escalating his attacks on women. How many times this fiend had done this before he had come on Dan’s radar, he didn’t know; but he realized it couldn’t keep going on. Dan’s attempt to stop this murder before it took place had failed, not so much because of Slate’s cleverness but because Dan was only one person and couldn’t be expected to cover all contingencies. The city was now in a panic, and the police had stepped up their investigations. A special team had been formed to concentrate solely on the capture of this mad man, which meant that Slate’s chances of getting caught were increasing geometrically. That also meant that Louis’ threats were also becoming more real.

            As far as Dan was concerned he had only two choices: find a way to turn in Slate without being implicated himself; or make it impossible for Slate to leave his house to commit more murders. If he did the former, the ocean of money would dry up and Louis would have him killed, which was a certainty. If he did the latter, Slate could still test the commercials without knowing it. The only liability in that case would be that his interactive life outside the house where his reactions to products was being measured would stop. With clever planning, Dan could overcome that liability by having sponsors concentrate on test commercials that Slate could still view on his television set.. The ocean of money plan would go on; Louis would remain happy; and the murderous rampage would stop. The trick would be how to incapacitate Slate so he couldn’t leave the house.

            That afternoon, Dan spent time on the web looking at medical ailments which would limit a person physically but not mentally. At first, he thought about having one of Slate’s legs broken, but he saw that the recovery time was relatively short. A muscle or tendon tear in the leg or knee, however, took much longer to heal even if surgery was performed. The problem was that causing such an injury was almost impossible without the person knowing it was being done.

            Throughout his evening watch on Slate, Dan tried to think of ways to have Slate’s leg injured; fortunately, the killing of the previous evening seemed to satisfy Slate enough so he was content enough to spend this night staying home and watching television. Four sponsor commercials were able to be inserted, but Dan’s other problem remained; and there was no way of knowing when Slate would get the urge to kill again. Suddenly, he had an idea.

            Slate was used to be the attacker so why not turn the tables and make him the victim. Home invasion. All Dan had to do was to get some people to pretend to break into Slate’s house, rough him up, steal some money, and flee. There would be no way that Slate would ever call the police, but he would figure he was just another victim of a random robbery. The robbers could injure his leg on the pretext of forcing him to reveal where he kept his money. The plan was sound except for one thing…who would play the robbers?

            Although he hated to do it, desperation necessitated that he call Richie. His younger brother was athletic looking although he was a nerd, and with his face masked and the proper clothing, could pass as a street thug. Dan would take on the role of enforcer, since he knew where he wanted to inflict the injury on Slate’s body.

            “Hello, Richie,” Dan said on his cell phone. “I need you to come to my office…yah, right now…I need a special favor…yah, I know it’s late…dress down, I mean old ratty clothes…yah, the rattier the better…and bring that gray hoodie…and bring a pair of Mom’s nylons…you heard me, Mom’s nylons…yah, quick as possible…come in by the service entrance I’ll meet you there…fast as possible, I’ll explain when you get here.”

            Now that Richie was taken care of, Dan had to fashion his own costume.  He walked over to the janitors’ closet and took out a pair of coveralls. Using a box cutter, he cut off the patch that identified the building and he did the same with the hat. Now, the outfit was basically non-descript; with the nylon stocking mask, he was sure he couldn’t be identified. A pair of rubber work gloves would complete the picture.

            An hour later, Richie arrived at the service entrance where Dan was waiting.

            “We’ll use your car,” Dan said bringing the bundle of clothes with him.

            “Use my car to do what?” Richie asked. “You were really cryptic on the phone, and what’s the deal with me dressing like a member of a gang?”

            “We need…I mean I need to teach somebody a lesson,” Dan said; “and I need you to back me up. All you have to do is hold the guy down while I hurt his leg.”

            “That’s all,” Richie replied. “I hold down a guy’s leg while you hurt him. Are you nuts? Please tell me you’re kidding and you have some sort of rational explanation or I’m out of here.”

            “Richie, I need you to do this or I wouldn’t ask,” Dan pleaded. “My life is on the line. I can’t tell you more without getting you involved; but trust me, this is a bad guy I’m hurting. I’m trying to stop him from hurting other people, and there’s no other way.”

            “You’re trying not to get me involved, you say. But I’m supposed to help you attack somebody and that’s not getting me involved,” Richie said angrily. “Level with me or I’m gone. What’s this really all about?”

            Dan was afraid to get his brother involved in his mess, but he had to tell him something or the plan was off.

            “Listen,” Dan said, lying through his teeth; “I got involved with some bad people and I owe them money…lots of money. I know I was a fool, but that’s water over the dam. They said they’d let me off the hook for the cash if I do them this one favor, hurt this guy I was telling you about. That’s it, just hurt him. I do it and my account is clear, and I go on with my life.”

The Poll Bearer Part 22 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

Had he taken the time to look more closely at the tablet, he would have seen that while Slate had parked in the same place as the night before, he took an opposite direction from the lot. He was six blocks west when the explosion went off at least ten blocks east. It actually made his job easier since the loud bang had caused people to come to the fronts of their houses to see what was going on; that left rear entry to be child’s play. When the woman had returned from the front lawn, Slate was waiting for her just inside the door.

            Safely inside the parking garage, Dan surveyed the damage. There were dings where small pieces of the falling metal had hit the car and there was a tiny crack in his windshield, but there was nothing that stood out to indicate he had been anywhere near the explosion. Scurrying inside the building to one of the big rooms, he looked at the monitors. Slate was still driving home as indicated by the dashboard camera, but now there was a serene look in his eyes. Had the feeling to murder passed or was there something which Dan didn’t understand?

            Slate finally arrived home, and that’s when Dan’s questions were answered. Andrew performed his same ritual with the bleach and the clothing as he had done when he successfully murdered his last victims. As Dan stared at the screens, he realized that everything he had done that evening was for naught.

CHAPTER 19

       Dan spent a sleepless night again waiting for the early morning news, but there were no reports of any woman being murdered. He stayed on until the morning surveillance crew arrived before going upstairs to his office. He clicked on the television but all the local reporting involved the car explosion. The burning fragments had set off a garage fire which occupied the attention of most of the reporters on an otherwise slow news day. By 10:00 AM, there was still no news on the brutal murder of any woman.

            Slate had gone to work and the surveillance team settled into their routine as he had settled into his. Dan, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. He jumped when Lisa knocked on his door almost expecting to see a police detective walk in.

            “Come in,” he said in a trembling voice.

            His heartbeat lowered instantly when he saw it was only his secretary with a handful of papers.

            “These are ready for your signature,” she said. As she placed the papers on his desk and started to turn around to leave, she added one more line: “Oh, by the way, the maintenance man from the garage area called to say your rear license plate is missing. He says you should contact the registry for a replacement.”

            As Dan watched her leave the office, his mind flashed back to the events of the previous evening. He wondered if he had lost the plate when he revved the car escaping from the explosion or if it had fallen off some distance away. In either case, it wasn’t a good sign for a day that was about to get worse in a hurry.

            Louis walked in unannounced and took his usual seat, a large manila envelope in his hand which he placed on the side of the chair. This time there was no hint of a smile on his face; instead, he had the look of someone who was worried and was about to pass that worry on to you.

            “Slate,” he said.

            “What about Slate?” Dan answered with a question. All he could think of was that Louis had found out about the murders and was about to lower the boom.

            “Yesterday we had no test commercials,” Louis replied actually speaking in full sentences. Dan also knew that Lisa was feeding him all of the daily results. “We had three new ones to go and none made it. So how come this guy is breaking his routine?”

            The way Louis phrased the question meant that Dan better have the right answer.

            “Just an off day,” he said hoping Louis didn’t want a further explanation but knowing he would. “Today seems like he’s back on routine and we’ll have no trouble. It’s okay, I assure you.”

            “Look, when all of this began, I could have cared less if the guy had an off day or even an off week,” Louis said. “I had other business interests that sustained me. Since we’re doing so well, though, I’ve, let’s say, curtailed certain activities making some business partners of mine less than happy since they aren’t sharing in my newfound profits. I find I am no longer welcome to rejoin their circles, so all my chips are riding on a satisfactory outcome to our present endeavors. I want nothing to disturb Mr. Slate…do you understand. I don’t want him to catch cold, stub his toe, or have any problems. I just want him to continue to sail us toward that ocean of money. All of the responsibility for Slate’s happiness is on your shoulders. If I haven’t made myself clear before, let me do it now. If anything were to happen to Mr. Slate in any negative way, you will not be around to read it in the next day’s papers. Am I clear enough for you?”

            This was the first time Louis had spoken so much and it had to have been when he was threatening Dan’s life. As far as Louis was concerned, Slate was untouchable…whatever he did outside of picking winners was perfectly okay. Dan, on the other hand, was very vulnerable.

            “I’m going to say this only once more; don’t screw it up,” Louis said, rising and walking out of the office.

            As Dan watched the man shut the door, his eyes glanced down at the manila envelope that had been left behind. He walked over and picked it up immediately noticing that something rigid was inside. Undoing the metal clasp he slid out the contents.

His missing license plate fell through his fingers to the floor.

The Poll Bearer Part 21 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

Slate was passive for two weeks, settling in to a routine that was comforting because he wasn’t stalking anyone, but also boring since it was like watching paint dry. Predictability becomes hypnotizing after awhile, and Dan found himself starting to daydream. It was during one of those nights when he lost his focus that Slate slipped out of the house. By the time Dan reconnected, the trackers in Slate’s clothes showed he was miles away and stationary. That meant he was watching and waiting until his victim went to bed.

Grabbing his tablet, Dan raced out of the building and started driving to the location, hoping he would be on time. Now, there would not need to be a situation where he would park and follow Slate on foot; instead, Dan hoped to make a loud entrance, honking his horn in the neighborhood and waking everybody up. He figured the attention would cause Slate to abandon his murder quest for the evening.

Pulling into the street where Slate was lurking, Dan started driving slowly, weaving his car side to side as if he were drunk, and honking his horn constantly. He turned on his radio to its loudest setting and opened the windows to let the music blast out. Lights started going on in all of the houses as Dan stopped his car in the middle of the road while he tried to scan the edges of the street, peering through the shadows to find his man. Suddenly, he saw a movement behind a tree; and an instant later Slate stepped out and began walking away staring intently at the man behind the wheel who was causing the commotion. Dan pulled forward looking at the tablet screen to make sure Slate was headed back to his own vehicle, then he revved the car and sped away from the scene in the opposite direction. Shutting off the radio and closing the windows, Dan proceeded in a roundabout way back to the office, constantly checking to see that Slate was going home. From the onboard camera, Dan could see the anger in Slate’s face; it was the picture of pure evil.

Back at the big room and the bank of monitors, Dan saw that Slate had gone to bed. There wouldn’t be any more hunting expeditions this evening, and that’s when it hit Dan for the first time. In the excitement of making a loud spectacle of himself, had Slate seen him when he stared inside the car as he walked quickly past? Since the killer didn’t know Dan from a hole in the wall, it probably wouldn’t make much difference. Dan knew that next time, and he was fairly sure that with Slate’s propensity to murder that there would be a next time, he’d have to prevent the crime before Slate even got to the scene.

CHAPTER 18

            The next day was more of the same with Dan busy with clients and Slate going about his normal routine. Andrew spent a little more time on his computer than normal, but that gave Dan an idea to have Ron insert some messages there as well. It would be easy to see Slate’s reaction to certain visual commercial images by using his own built in camera to record his reactions. Amazingly, Slate continued to produce the reactions that fit the American profile, and his unconscious picks were right on the money.

            The problem lay in the early evening hours when the security crew was going off duty and Dan was covering. As darkness fell, Dan could see that Slate was becoming more tense and agitated. It was as if something inside of him was eating him alive making him nervous and irritable; he didn’t seem able to sit still for more than a minute at a time. He took a few bites of take out, then threw the rest away. He paced around the house constantly looking at his watch. The commercials that Dan had ready to be substituted into Slate’s regular TV viewing couldn’t be used since Slate wasn’t putting on the set. Finally, he sat down in an easy chair and stared up at the ceiling, a desperate look in his eyes.

            There was only one thing that Dan could surmise; Slate was having some sort of withdrawal because he had been unable to commit that murder last night. It was almost like a drug for him to kill; without the experience, he began to unravel.

            As Dan watched, he quickly knew that his whole world hinged on Slate keeping it together. If he fell apart, then he took Dan down with him as well. But, there was no way Dan could sanction the continued killings; yet how could he satisfy Slate’s desires without letting him resume his barbaric goals? Less TV time meant fewer fulfillments of his clients’ needs; and right now Slate was too agitated to go back to his regular routine.

            After an hour of sitting, Slate got up and headed to the kitchen. Dan was hoping that some how his Average American had snapped out of the crisis on his own; but that idea was shattered when Slate took the corkscrew out of the drawer. He was planning to go on the hunt once again, but this time the desperation might produce recklessness so that he would be caught. Now, the question was where was Slate headed? Was it back to the same house as the night before or was there a new victim on the horizon? In either case, Dan knew that the drunken driver technique wouldn’t work again.

            As Slate backed his car out onto the street, Dan was already in his own tracking the killer on his tablet. The picture from the dashboard camera showed a crazed expression on Slate’s face as if he had to murder someone no matter what the consequences. The tablet showed that Slate was going back to the same place he had parked his car the night before, so Dan guessed he was also returning to the same house and potential victim as if this was some sort of unfinished business. By driving directly to the location, Dan could beat Slate there since Andrew would do his evasive walk which would take time.

            Pulling up in front of the house, Dan was desperate for a plan to make this location totally unacceptable for Andrew. He knew he only had minutes, but he was unsure what to do, then a thought hit him. Going to his own trunk, he took out a tire iron. Running up to one of the cars parked in a driveway, he used the flat end of the tire iron to pop off the gas tank cover and quickly unscrewed the cap. He reached in his pocket and took out a handkerchief which he jammed into the opening, stuffing most of it into the gas tune but leaving a corner out. He took out his lighter and lit the end of the handkerchief and ran back to his car just as the explosion went off. He sped away through the falling pieces of burning metal thankful that the blast hadn’t gone off a few seconds sooner. In his rear view mirror, he could see the fireball shoot higher than the roofs of the houses then die down to just flames surrounding the car. He knew he had committed a felony to prevent a felony, but it was worth it. Now all he had to do was to get his car back home into the parking garage and out of sight.

The Poll Bearer Part 20 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

At 4:00 AM, the early news shows were already reporting the crime since this made two murders in just a few days. Nothing was stolen and the victim was brutally stabbed a number of times. Apparently, the victim was attacked while she slept because the blood was confined to the bed. People were asking the public to report anything they knew on a special tip hotline. The media was already throwing out catchy names for the killer, but one was starting to stick: the Ghoul, from the brutality of the stabbings all around the chest and upper torso. Police were still trying to define the murder weapon which was described as being slightly pointy but not sharp. The wounds were more like a partial penetration accompanied by a ripping action.

            There was no doubt in his mind that Mr. Average American, the new Andrew Slate, was a cold-blooded killer who was stalking female victims. Apparently something had triggered him into this behavior, and it didn’t look as if he would stop on his own. It was also obvious to Dan that Slate was using a corkscrew as the murder weapon. The man around whom Dan had staked his own reputation and millions of dollars was now about to undo everything if he was caught. The question in Dan’s mind was should he stop him?

CHAPTER 16

            Dan came in late the next day trying to take time to resolve his dilemma. Part of his answer came when he walked into his office to see Louis already sitting in his favorite chair.

            “Can I help you?” Dan asked sarcastically slightly disturbed that Louis would take it upon himself to be so bold.

            “Problem,” Louis said phrasing it as a statement rather than as a question.

            “And what’s that,” Dan asked misinterpreting Louis’ intent.

            “The people with whom I am associated want to know what type of car you would like,” Louis said forming a sentence of so many words that Dan was almost overcome. “I said Ferrari, but they thought a Rolls might be your style. Which do you want?”

            “What’s this all about?” Dan asked wondering when the next shoe would fall.

            “It’s all about rewarding your success,” Louis continued. “At first, I thought this ocean of money was just bullshit, but I was content to operate my other business. Now, this is a money machine; and even going totally legitimate and paying taxes and everything, I can’t believe how much money is coming in. For once, I’m a true businessman, and I owe it all to you. There’s billions in this.”

            Louis had said more words in the past few seconds than he probably had in the last two years; and while it appeared good, the flaw was that this whole empire could come tumbling down if the police discovered that Slate was their killer.

            “I don’t know what to say,” Dan replied fumbling for something that would take the pressure off.

            “Don’t say anything except what kind of car and what color,” Louis said standing and smiling as he went toward the door. Stopping, he let go with his catch phrase, “Just don’t screw it up.”

            This time he had meant it as a joke, but Dan knew just how serious he was taking it.

            Normally in his life there was someone with whom he could share his problems; even if they offered no solution, their willingness to listen gave Dan a chance to think out loud. This time he had no one; to bring anybody in would implicate them if Slate was ever caught. There was only one answer that he could come up with at the moment…Slate must not be caught, at least not at this time; but he must be prevented from killing again. Both of those sounded like impossibilities, but Dan knew he’d have to pull them off…he hoped…and alone.

CHAPTER 17

The observations of Slate during the daylight and early evening hours went on as usual with commercials being inserted whenever it was necessary to test the new products. Slate proved unbelievably accurate in reflecting America’s tastes, and the advertisers were ecstatic. Louis was happy; Ron was happy, the firm was happy…and Dan was miserable. Even the new Ferrari did little to lift him out of the doldrums of waiting until Slate decided to go on his murderous prowl again. There had to be some trigger, but Dan was unable to find it. Also of concern was whether Slate was picking these women at random or was he targeting specific individuals. If the former, there was less of a chance that the police would find him; if the latter, then Dan was doubly worried.

The strain of working during the day and monitoring Slate all night was beginning to take its toll. Cat naps and coffee weren’t the way to lead one’s life, and Dan was starting to suffer from errors of judgment. What little sleep he did have was punctuated with nightmares wherein Slate would get caught and accuse Dan of being his partner. Although Slate didn’t even know that Dan existed, Dan knew all too well that by his silence he was helping this killer to succeed. His moral character was now a sham as he was selling his soul for money. This wasn’t some case where by letting one killer go you were saving a thousand people or helping the world in some way; instead, this was pure greed and fear of retaliation by Louis and his people. There was no way Dan could justify what he was doing to others or to himself, and it was starting to tear him apart.

He found that he was cutting himself off from people such as Richie and Ron; he was snapping and angry at staff for the slightest mistake. He spent much of his day alone in his office and his nights glued to a bank of monitors. He was only thankful for the fact that long ago Louis had pulled surveillance off him.

The Poll Bearer Part 19 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

It was now obvious to Dan that Alan had adopted Andrew Slate’s identity and had come east. In his haste to protect his daughter, Wyatt Slate probably never collected his son’s wallet which would have contained a driver’s license, Social Security card, and other personal identification. Dan was now sure that Alan was in possession of all of that information. A shave, haircut, and a few other touches and Alan Gordon was reborn as Andrew Slate, a man with a clean record and with no one looking for him.

            If Alan Gordon was posing as Slate, Dan’s whole framework shifted. While nothing in Slate’s background suggested violence, everything in Gordon’s did. Alan Gordon seemed capable of killing that woman on

Memford Street

the other night.

            Now a major problem arose as security was monitoring the new Slate twenty four hours a day. If they discovered he was a killer, their first call would be to Dan and the second to the police. Dan had to do something quickly to prevent that from happening until he was sure. He was okay with Alan passing himself off as Slate to avoid prosecution; letting him loose to murder was something else.

            “Lisa, come in here,” he said on the phone.

            As his secretary entered, Dan tried a new tact.

            “Get me Mr. Postadolas. I want to talk money,” he said figuring that would get Louis’ attention.

            As before, within two minutes, Louis was sitting in the chair in Dan’s office. This time there was a faint smile on his lips as if he were expecting more good news about the ocean of money.

            “I’m sure you already heard that we’re being swamped with new clients, and money is starting to roll in faster than we can count it. We’re already booked solid for two years, and we’ll need to hire new bookkeeping staff,” Dan said laying it on. “Now, we can start to do cost cutting to increase our profits even more. We’re spending mucho bucks on security when we can cut it down by a third…eliminate the night shift. We don’t need it any more.”

            He stopped to look at Louis’ reaction. Not sensing any objection, he continued.

            “We use the money we save on that and we put it into sales where it’ll pay off even more. It’s win-win for us. What do you think?’

            Louis continued his slight smile. He knew that Dan had fulfilled what he had promised so far, so he figured that Dan must have thought out the rest of this plan very carefully before presenting it. He also liked the fact that Dan was keeping him informed all the way.

            “Do it,” he said tersely. “Anything else?”

            “No,” Dan said smiling. “I’ll handle it immediately.”

            After Louis left without his customary warning at the door, Dan called Lisa to tell security to take the night off effective immediately. He’d have her handle the third shift termination tomorrow.

CHAPTER 15

            Dan was monitoring Slate all alone as he had done before. Everything seemed normal until Slate pulled his disappearing act once again. This time he drove to

Grand Street

and parked his car in a movie theater lot. He then walked four blocks north and three more east with Dan tracking him on his tablet all the way, keeping him no more than four hundred feet away at any time. Slate cut down a side street going north again. Two more blocks brought him to

Oak Street

where the tablet showed he stopped. Dan cautiously got as close as he could without being seen. This time he brought along a pair of binoculars. He scanned the area until he spotted Slate standing at a diagonal across the street from house number 116. There was a light on downstairs of the two story house, and the flickering lights from the television set played on the curtains. All Slate did was watch the house, and Dan watched him.

            An hour went by and then another, but Slate never changed position. There was something or someone in that house that held his complete attention. Then the light went out downstairs and clicked on in the second floor. Dan could see the shadow of a single person moving around in the room before it settled and the light switched off. Slated waited some more.

            A half hour later, he walked briskly across the street and disappeared into the darkness around the back of the house. Dan stayed still and waited, hoping he was making the right decision. Was this a late night interlude with a married woman or…he didn’t want to think about the or part. Fifteen minutes later Slate emerged from the back of the house and began tracing his steps to his car. He drove toward home with Dan following every step of the way until he was certain that’s where Slate was going, then he raced back to the monitoring room.

            Inside Dan saw a similar re-enactment with the bleach, gloves, and clothes. Now it was time to wait until the morning, or was it? Picking up one of the phones the security team had used, Dan called 911. He knew there was no way the call could be traced on this special phone. He told the operator he had seen a disturbance at

116 Oak Street

and to hurry, then he hung up. Dan got in his car and drove back toward the address. The street was now cordoned off and police cars and an ambulance had already arrived. Circling around, he parked a distance away then joined the crowd gathering behind the newly installed yellow crime scene tape. After a half hour, the paramedics wheeled the victim out. their lack of haste indicated she was dead. Crime scene personnel had arrived and the task of collecting evidence had already begun. Dan left the scene certain that Slate was responsible; the morning news would indicate the extent of his crime.

The Poll Bearer Part 18 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

CHAPTER 14

            When Ron finally arrived at 9:30 PM, Dan immediately cornered him.

            “Can you run a fingerprint through a national criminal database for me,” Dan asked.

            “Sure, no problem,” Ron replied. “If we had the equipment, which we don’t, I’d need a hand scanner to get the print, then I could hack into the FBI database and run it.”

            “What do you need?” Dan asked. “Better yet, where can you get it fast.”

            “This isn’t something you can buy at the dollar stores,” Ron replied smugly. “You’d need to order it and that would -.”

            “Who has one now?” Dan interrupted. “I mean other than the cops, who would have such a device now?”

            “The government, a top notch security company, major insurance companies,” Ron answered.

            “Anybody easier that we could contact?” Dan asked.

            “Some hospital emergency wards have them,” Ron answered. “Wait a minute. My laptop has a fingerprint recognition to lock out unwanted users. Let’s see if I can monkey around with it to accept a print. Then it would be easy to use it to hack the data base. I assume you already have a print for me to try.”

            “Richie told me that a professor at the college would be able to pull a print off this juice bottle,” Dan said. “That’s the print I want to run.”

            “That’s be Professor Cornicotis. Why not see if he can run it as well?” Ron asked.

            “This has to be kept in house,” Dan said trying to get across that he didn’t want anybody to know. “Will he lift the print and then you take it?”

            “I know one of the students in his class,” Ron said. “For ten bucks, he’ll lift it and make me a copy and keep his mouth shut. But, I won’t get it until tomorrow, so you won’t have your answer until then, if I can get my laptop to receive it and then send it out.”

            “Get me the results as soon as possible,” Dan said showing urgency in his voice. He emptied the contents of his small waste basket and carefully, using the piece of paper, put the juice bottle inside. “The prints are on the bottle. Carry it in this basket so you don’t have to touch it.”

            As Ron took the basket and left the room, the phone rang.

            “Yah…Security…you say he’s leaving his house at this time…keep me informed where he goes…I’ll be here no matter what time it is…make sure you call if he stops anyplace for any length of time.”

            Hanging up the phone, Dan was worried. Slate was going out at this late hour, something that disrupted his normal routine. Now Dan wasn’t the only one monitoring him. The boys in the van were following him and the guy at the monitors downstairs was watching his every move. If Slate was the killer and he was about to strike again, there would be too many people who knew and this whole average American would blow up in Dan’s face. The police might even charge him for not reporting what he knew about the first crime. It was going to be a long troubling night.

            Two hours later, the phone rang again, and Dan immediately answered.

            “Hello…security…he’s parked on Oak Street…he’s been there for an hour…what’s he doing…nothing, just staring out…can you see at what…then can the van get any closer…no…is he saying anything, did he make any calls…just staring…did he drive directly to the spot…he just seemed to drive aimlessly then stopped…do you think he saw the van tailing him…you say he just started his car and is moving off…stay with him and let me know where he goes next.”

            Dan hung up the phone. Apparently Slate never left his car, then what was he doing so far from home on

Oak Street

this late at night? Mr. Average American was being anything but average right now.

            Twenty minutes went by before the phone rang again. Even though he was expecting the call, Dan jumped at the sound, his nerves were on edge.

            “Hello,” he said. “He’s back home…okay. Thanks for keeping me updated.”

            A suspicious trip in the night amounting to nothing, Dan was hoping it would stay that way.

            The next day was busy with more clients seeking Dan’s services. Borley had really been spreading the news now that his commercials had begun running with overwhelming response by the buying public. The demand for Santana hair spray after one showing had many stores re-ordering product immediately. Yet, despite signing up a number of new accounts, Dan’s thoughts were squarely focused on Ron and the fingerprint identification. Finally, in late afternoon, Ron showed up at the office.

            “I did it,” he said triumphantly. “Here’s the paperwork on the print.”

            He handed it to Dan who took it, sat down, and was about to read it when he saw Ron still standing in front of the desk.

            “Did you look at any of this?” he asked hoping to receive a negative answer.

            “Just the name and a little on this guy’s profile,” Ron answered. “Who is he and how did you get his prints?”

            “A friend of mine in another city sent me the bottle in the mail and asked me to do a favor,” Dan lied. “He thought he’d recognized this guy from a want ad in the post office and asked me to check. He didn’t want to go off half cocked and report an innocent man. I’ll call him and let him know he’s got the right guy. Thanks a lot. Remember, don’t tell anybody about this. The cops in the other town might want to stake this guy out first. You know what I mean.”

            “I forgot about it already,” Ron said as he left the room.

            The booking photograph Ron had provided was of a man with a heavy beard and long hair; it was easy to see why Ron hadn’t recognized him as Andrew Slate. As Dan read further, pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. The suspect’s name was Alan Gordon, and he came from Omaha. His father, Frank, was a mortician; and Alan was listed as an employee. Frank must have been Wyatt Slate’s friend; and Alan probably assisted in handling the cremation, that’s how he knew about Andrew Slate’s death. He had an extensive criminal record dating from his early teens when he was involved with stealing a car. Charges were dropped after the father reimbursed the victim. Later, Alan went on to selling drugs, breaking and entering, assault, intimidation of a witness, and suspicion of arson. He was out on bail at the time of Andrew Slate’s death. Apparently, Frank was also a person of interest in the disappearance of two sisters when he vanished. A warrant was issued for his arrest, but he couldn’t be found. A week later, the burned body of a man was discovered in a field outside of Zanesville, Ohio. Alan Gordon’s driver’s license was lying a few feet from the body, amazingly untouched by the flames. DNA had come back inconclusive, so authorities were unsure if the dead man was Alan or if he had killed the man. After that, it was as if Alan Gordon had dropped off the face of the planet with no further reports or sightings.