A World Without Secrets (24 page)

"Thank you, Sheriff. I'm sure I'll be calling on you again as I perform my investigation."

Since I had seen each of the acts committed, the information I received from the sheriff didn't add to what I knew of the crime, but he had provided an interesting perspective.

After leaving the sheriff's office I drove over to the scene of the first abduction. The mall, which had appeared pristine in the gizmo images, had seen better days. Twelve years often had a noticeable impact on commercial property as shopping trends changed and prime tenants either went out of business or moved to better locations.

I found the parking spot where the victim's car had been found and made a pretense of checking out all viewing angles of the parking lot and buildings from that location in case someone was watching.

Over the next several hours, I visited the other three abduction locations and even checked out the embankment over which the perp had thrown the bicycle. Residential housing near the fourth location had built up quite a bit during the past twelve years, and it would have been considerably more difficult to perform the same kind of abduction at that point without someone noticing something. I didn't really learn anything else new at any of the scenes, but I hadn't expected to.

Returning to the sheriff's office, I asked if I could get access to the county's database regarding filed complaints. I was directed to a female detective who would help me.

"Hello, Detective Lasker," I said by way of introduction to S. Lasker after reading her name off the plate on her desk. "I'm Colton James of the FBI."

"Yes, I know. The Sheriff has told us to assist you with any reasonable request."

"Wonderful. I'd like to know if there were any citizen complaints, either phoned in or filed, about delivery vehicles between these two dates." I handed her a piece of paper that listed the two dates I knew the perp had been operating in the area.

After glancing at the paper she said, "Does this have to do with the serial killer investigation?"

"Yes."

She nodded and said, "This requested search is pretty general. Can you be more specific with the parameters?"

"How about if we limit it initially to a search based on complaints about FedEx, DHL, UPS, and USPS vehicles?"

"That's better. The other way we'd get everything, including restaurant, market, furniture, florist, and department store vehicle complaints."

"What do you estimate for time?"

"Unless you get a priority from the Sheriff, it'll probably take about an hour to search the city and county databases."

"That's fine. Thank you. I'll stop back after I run another errand."

I headed to the county assessor's office next to check on the ownership of the garage building the perp had used as his base of operations. The files in the assessor's office were self-serve. I learned that the garage had been owned by the same person for the past twenty-two years. There were no liens on the property or judgments against it. It had originally been constructed to serve as the primary business location of a small metal ductwork fabrication company. I made photocopies of the records I accessed.

When I returned to the sheriff's office, the search had finished and Detective Lasker had printed it out for me. It was longer than I'd expected.

"You think the serial killer might have been working for one of the delivery services?" she asked as she handed it over.

"I'm trying to look at all the possibilities. This is one of my theories."

"Sounds like a good one."

"Thanks. Were you on the force back then?"

"Yeah. I was a patrol officer. I was never involved in that investigation, but I remember the case. We were all driving around like our heads were on swivels, looking for anything out of the ordinary. I hope you find the bastard."

"Thanks. I promise I'll do my best to see that he doesn't escape justice. And thanks for the search."

It was a great day outside, so I sat in my rental car and went through the entire list. I had gotten lucky. There were several complaints from a local mechanic who had seen the delivery van either entering or exiting the garage building the perp had used as his headquarters. Since delivery vehicles almost never enter a building, he assumed the vehicles were being serviced in there. He complained to the city three times because no one had been issued a business permit to work on trucks at that location. It appeared from the listing that no one from licensing had ever followed up. The record gave me an excuse to contact the owner of the building.

"Mr. Cappalota?" I asked, as an older gentlemen answered the door at the address I'd gotten from the assessor's office.

"That's me," he said through the screen door. "What can I do for you?"

I held up my ID and said, "I'm Colton James of the FBI. May I ask you a few questions?"

He seemed to stiffen a bit before asking, "What's this about?"

"I'm working on an old case, and we're trying to tie up some loose ends so we can close the file."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"It's about the building you own on Magorim Street."

"What about it?"

"We're trying to locate one of your past tenants."

"I don't keep track of past tenants. When our business is concluded, we part company."

"I'm hoping you can give me the name and legal address of a tenant at the time he was leasing the building."

Cappalota sighed and pushed the screen door open gently. "Come on in. I'll have to check my records."

I followed him through the house and into his study. The décor of the house would probably best be described as mid-century, so I half expected him to pull a dusty old ledger out of a file cabinet and hunt through yellowed pages for the information. But as he stepped behind his desk, he raised the cover on a fairly new laptop. When the computer finished its boot process, he began using the mouse to find the file. Finally, he asked for the date of the lease. I gave him the month and year of the first abduction and he began scanning a spreadsheet file. When he found what he was looking for, he clicked a button on the mouse and the printer behind him came to life. A few seconds later it spit out a sheet of paper. He glanced at it and then handed it to me.

The paper contained all the basic information of the lease and everything I needed to establish the identity of the perp. "This isn't a local address," I said, referring to the tenant's mailing address.

"I always take the address from the tenant's driver's license, unless he has legal papers of incorporation. In that case I use the address on the corporate papers."

"I see. Mr. Cappalota, how many times did this individual renew his lease?"

He checked the file and said, "The lease was never renewed. He only took it for one year. Paid the entire year in advance, plus a security deposit. Never had that happen before— or since."

"And when the lease was up, was the building fully vacated?"

"No, he left a lot of junk there. My lawyer went through the legal process that declared it as abandoned property."

"Is that normal? Do you have to go through the legal process for everything that's left behind in a property?"

"No, most tenants take everything of value with them. In this case, however, the tenant left a motor vehicle behind."

"And what happened to that?"

"After the legal process was finalized, the truck was purchased by a used truck dealer. I didn't get a lot of money, but it covered most of my costs for the attorney and the cost to have the place cleaned out."

"And what happened to the rest of the tenant's possessions left behind?"

"A junk dealer came and took everything. It was all legal. It was abandoned property."

"I'm sure you did everything required under the law, sir. I'm not here to challenge anything. My interest is limited solely to the tenant and his former property. Since you went through a legal process to change ownership of the vehicle, can you provide me with the VIN?"

Cappalota stood up and went to a file cabinet where he began looking through file folders. He found the one he was searching for and pulled out a sheet of paper. Walking to his printer, he lifted the top cover and placed the paper face down, then tapped a few buttons and it made a photocopy of the document. As it spit the copy out, he looked at it, then turned it over to me.

"Thank you, sir. You've been very helpful."

"Is that all?"

"Just one more thing. Could you give me the name of the junk dealer who cleaned out the building?"

Cappalota took a small piece of notepaper and scrawled a name and address. As he handed it to me, he said, "The guy I dealt with back then died about six years ago. His son runs the place now."

I thanked Mr. Cappalota and left. I wondered if Cappalota would immediately call the junk dealer, but it really didn't matter since I could confirm his actions and any resulting actions on the part of the junk dealer using the gizmo.

The junkyard was open, and as soon as I showed my ID to the person behind the counter he called his boss.

"Mr. Semmer?" I said when the man came out from a rear office.

"I'm Semmer. What do you need?"

"A few minutes of your time." Looking over at the counter person, I added, "In private."

"Follow me," Semmer said, gesturing to the rear of the store.

I followed him to a locked storeroom that had tables full of 'collectable' items but no place to sit down. The walls of the room were lined with shelves that also overflowed with— junk. But as everyone knew, one man's junk was another man's treasure. The value of 'collectables' had been rising steadily for decades and the term 'junk' had taken on new meaning.

"Okay, this is private. No one can overhear us. What do you want?"

"Your father cleaned out a building at Magorim Street about twelve years ago. Do you still have the contents?"

Semmer laughed. "Twelve years ago? You've got to be kidding. Most of that stuff would have been gone within thirty days."

"Most? What's left?"

"I have no idea. We don't keep records detailing the contents when we clean out a building. A lot of the stuff gets recycled almost immediately."

"The items I'm looking for would not have been recycled."

Semmer grinned. "I wasn't even here back then. I was in college. I have no idea what he might have saved from that location. Look around. I doubt if I could tell you where one percent of this stuff came from."

"The items I'm looking for are quite unique. I think you'd know if you had them."

"What do you mean by 'unique.'"

"Items of a very personal nature."

"Personal?"

"Body parts."

Semmer's face turned solemn. "Are you serious? You think I'm hiding dead bodies?"

"No. I'm not searching for bodies. I'm looking for— appendages."

Semmer breathed deeply and then said, "Suppose I knew of something. How much trouble would I be in?"

"None at all," I said, "unless it's evidence in a criminal case and you fail to turn it over to authorities after becoming aware that it's being sought."

Semmer breathed deeply again. "I swear I had no knowledge that you might be looking for something like this, and I don't even know where it came from."

"Where what came from?"

"I'll show you."

Semmer led me to a locked supply closet at the back of the room. After unlocking the cabinet and opening the doors, he took a small cardboard box off the shelf.

"Here," Semmer said, holding the box out to me.

Upon opening the box, I saw a shrunken head, or at least what looked like a real shrunken head. It was ancient and might have been a relic from one of those places where shrinking heads was a ritualistic practice hundreds or thousands of years ago.

"This is interesting, but unless it was stolen from a museum or private collection, it's not illegal to possess."

"That isn't what you're looking for?"

"No."

"Well, I have two other things."

The first item turned out to be a human penis in a jar of clear liquid that I assumed was alcohol to preserve it.

"Uh, that's not it either."

"Okay, he said, putting the jar with the penis back into the cabinet. I have one last thing."

Pulling a small wooden box off a shelf, he handed it to me. When I opened it, I saw four small baby food jars, each containing a pair of ears.

"Yes, these are what I've been looking for. They're evidence in a murder investigation, so I'll have to confiscate them. I'll give you a receipt, but I doubt you'll ever be able to get them back."

The day had been far more productive than I could have dreamed possible when I'd stepped off the plane the day before. Of course, I'd had the advantage of knowing exactly what I was looking for at all times, so it was merely a matter of tracking it down. And I'd been very lucky that the evidence I'd collected would enable me to explain how I was able to close the case. The only chore left was to visit the county where the cabin was located and get a copy of the perp's death certificate. That probably wasn't even necessary because I'd been able to verify the death electronically from state records, but I wanted to get a copy of the autopsy to include with my report.

I left the next morning and enjoyed the ride north. It was a beautiful sunny day and the temperature was well above normal, hovering around seventy-one degrees. The hours flew by as I enjoyed the scenery in an area I'd never visited. It was hard to suppress thoughts of my parents. When they had died in the highway accident, they had been traveling not far from where I was headed. I worked to put that unpleasantness out of my mind. I had no desire to see where the accident happened. I had learned everything about the accident I wanted to know by using the gizmo. I preferred to remember the wonderful times we'd enjoyed when I was growing up. And the best part was that I could see them again anytime I wished. It was better than having old 8mm movies.

I stopped at the county offices first to get a copy of the autopsy report from the county coroner. It took awhile for them to dig out the file, then photocopy every page, but I left with the last piece of hard evidence I needed for Brigman. The autopsy showed that the perp had died from a wound to the abdomen caused by a sharp instrument like a stiletto-style knife. I wished I could produce the nail file so the fourth victim could be credited properly with ending the murder spree of that monster, but the trail was too old. Or was it?