Fatal Encounters
By Irv Pliskin
Chapter 4
Carl made a note of the tabloid’s name The Galaxy Express, and as soon as he could he stopped and bought a copy for himself. He told Clarissa, the woman he was with, a rather youngish blond who was exceedingly well built, but not too smart, that he wanted to check on the steeplechase races, since he knew there was a famous jockey riding and he might put some money on his horses.
“Who,” she asked. “what’s his name, Lovey? How come you American's know about Steeplchase racing. You don't do that in the states, do you?"”
The only jockey Carl knew by name was Dick Francis who had given up racing years ago and was now a famous novelist. So that is what he said.
“Good.” she said, “I’ll have to look him up. I may have a go at his mounts, too”
“Christ,” he thought, “she is really stupid.”
Carl was concerned about what he had seen in the tabloid. How in the world did they get that picture? He would have to find out what it was all about.
One thing Carl had learned was never to question the hands fate dealt him. He had good reason for that.
Carl was not a very reflective man. He figured he had very little to reflect upon. Although he currently called himself Rogers, because he had found the friendly, fatherly nature of Fred Rogers on the TV appealing as a kid, Carl had no idea what his real name was.
He had been found, by a foot patrolman lying in a cardboard box on New Year’s Eve, l963. The carton was stacked alongside the trash to be collected in a day or two. The cop found him because he was wailing: there was no identification, no indication of his parentage. Just a squalling newborn Caucasian baby abandoned in the cold in a terrible neighborhood.
He was never adopted and was raised by a series of foster parents, some who treated him well, most who abused and maltreated him.
At fourteen he was seduced by one of his foster parents, while she was drunk and feeling needy.
At fifteen, he was hauled up before the court for a series of petty crimes, and he decided, after six months in a child corrections center that it was stupid to do small crimes. He also began to notice that people who looked better, talked better and were refined had less trouble than kids like him, who were not even diamond rough. He was determined to make sure that he developed the graces needed to do better than average. .
Carl joined the Navy as soon as he could. He behaved. He listened. He watched. He learned, and he developed. When his enlistment was up, in the mid 80’s he and a gang of ten other men decided that the risks were small, and the possible profits huge if they became pirates and hijacked a freighter on the high seas.
They pulled it off, and they got lucky. Not only were they able to realize a large fortune when they sold the ship and its contents to an Oriental businessman, they also found a huge shipment of American currency. The money was not on the ship's manifest so the oriental tycoon never discovered it.
They had decided to share their profits evenly. As they went on their way, with several million dollars for each of them, and twice as much for the ringleader and planner, Carl saw the opportunity to triple his stakes. He waylaid the ringleader, killed him and took his share too.
The money was deposited in safe banks all over the world, and Carl, who wasn’t Carl then, disappeared. He did not emerge until the late 90’s when he established himself as Carl Rogers a cultured, Ivy League type gentleman. He was passionate about his ‘hobby’, an antisocial proclivity for seducing and then killing unattached women who expressed an interest in relationship.
The fact that his current woman was not too bright was no deterrent. He felt no compunction about her. She was almost too easy. When he did the bit at the cemetery, she gave it her all, and then some.
After they screwed on his “father’s’ grave, she rested just a few minutes, and then straddled him in the sixty nine position, pushed down his pants and took him in her mouth.
He responded quickly to her ministrations, and with alacrity, when she wiggled her behind at him stopped for a moment and said “put your hand in me, put your hand in me.” He pulled her panties aside slipped his hand into her and rubbed vigorously. He slid his thumb into her ass, and she wriggled with joy. She was too busy to say anything, but he knew she liked that too. Little slut. He wasn’t sure she was worth his trouble, but then, she was a conquest, and he was convinced he had to follow through on the things he started.
He knew he could afford to buy a harem if he wanted one, but this was more challenging, more satisfying, too. The sensations began to get to him, and he intensified his action as she did hers, and in just a few minutes they both came violently. She’s pretty dumb, he realized, but she was a damn good screw.
Murchinson called a Scotland Yard crew to help him in Eliana’s flat, and until they came he very carefully examined the place. It was neat but not very personal. He was surprised to see a small china closet full of fine china; pieces he could tell were of real value.
He thought about how a single woman working in an antique shop could have acquired such nice china, and then he realized it must be because of the work she was doing.
There was a computer on a long table in the living room, but he decided to let his computer experts boot it up. It could wait until they arrived.
The drawers revealed no surprises. The usual things one would expect to find. Undergarments, socks, stocking, things of that nature. All of it was neat and well cared for.
This had been a woman who took good care of her possessions, he decided. She must have been a nice woman from what everyone had said about her. Her death was
ignominious, and he resolved to do everything in his power to find out who had killed her, and bring the murderer to justice.
When the team of experts from New Scotland Yard arrived at Eliana’s Bayswater flat, the inspector told them that he wanted everything, “just everything they could determine about this young woman. When you get it,” he added, “bring it to my office at New Scotland Yard. I have some important things to work on. I’ll be there most of the day.”
As soon as he was at his desk, Murchinson picked up the phone and dialed Detective Jerry Hallen at his office in Easton, Pennsylvania. “Jerry? Murchinson here.”
“Well, good morning Inspector. Five hours difference, isn’t it? So then, good afternoon. How are you sir?”
“Just fine Jerry, just fine. Listen, old boy, I got a journalist friend of mine to publish that picture you sent me of the reconstructed skull in a local Tabloid.”
“Really? Any luck?”
“That’s what I’m calling to tell you. The paper came out yesterday morning, and about three PM yesterday afternoon I got a call from a woman who says she knew her. I’ve been working on it ever since, and i have some information that I think you should see. Can you get over here in the next day or so? I think we should go over this together.”
“I agree,” Hallen said. “Will you be at your office for the next hour, or so?”
“Yes, should be.”
“Well, I’ll check with the boss and let you know.”
Hallen hung up and walked into Lieutenant Starkie's office. The lieutenant was reading a thick document with intense focus and it took him a little while to realize that Hallen was standing there.
“Sorry Jerry,” I’ve got this message from the governor, and although he’s a darn good politician, the son of a bitch writes like a lawyer.”
“Shucks, Lou,” Hallen said,, “that’s what he is.”
“Yeah, I know. Well what can i do for you detective?”
“Lou, you know I sent that picture of the Jane Doe skull that the Vidocq society reconstructed to Murchinson at Scotland Yard.?
“Yeah, sure.”
“Well he just called and he thinks he got a hit on it.”
“Really? No Kidding. Hey, that’s pretty good news.”
“I think so. He suggests I come over there and work on it with him. Whatdaya think?”
“Great idea. Get over there as soon as you can. But keep me informed and up to date on what’s happening.”
“Yes sir. Count on it.”
Hallen got on the phone with US AirWays and made a reservation for the next evening. The schedule, he thought was pretty good. He could leave Philadelphia International at abut 8 P.M. and get to Heathrow the next morning early. He made a reservation on flight 333, figuring that that would give him enough time to get packed, He didn’t like leaving his wife and kids for a long time, but this was a situation that needed his attention. They were after a killer, and Hallen was convinced he was looking for a serial killer. Any effort he put out was worth it. He was determined to catch the guy, that was his new dedication.
Within an hour he was on the phone to Murchinson.
“Jerry Hallen, inspector. I'm booked tomorrow night on US Airways flight 333 into Heathrow. Is that soon enough?”
”That’ll be fine,” Murchinson said. “I’ll have a Bobby meet you, spare you that long taxi ride into town from Heathrow. He’ll bring you to New Scotland yard, and we can go around the corner to the St. Emmons hotel for a proper English breakfast. Will that be okay with you?”
“Sure. See you then.”
An hour later, the Scotland Yard investigation team that had gone over Eliana’s flat, came into the office. They had her computer with them, a variety of notes and a few of her things.
The tech in charge poked his head into Murchinson’s office and said, “We got her computer here, sir, and some of her other things, including her address book. We can certainly get a dental comparison from the charts they sent us, and we have the phone and address of a dentist. Shall I ring him up and arrange for someone to go over there, sir?”
“Do that please,” Murchinson said. “Be good enough to let me have the results as soon as you get it. I’ve already got Hallen coming over from the States, and it would be nice to hand him a complete confirmed identity.”
“Yes sir. We’ll do it this afternoon.”
“Also, Jared, Hallen is coming over via US Airways He gets to Heathrow about 9 tomorrow morning. Let’s see,” he looked at his notes, “he’s on flight 333. Could you have someone meet him please and make sure he gets through immigration and customs without any problem.?”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you Jared. I appreciate it.”
The inspector was about to leave for the day, convinced that they had had a pretty good day, in terms of Eliana, when Jared came back to his office. We’ve been able to get some of the messages the woman sent to the man in the states from her ‘sent’ files. So, we got an email address, but it may not helps us much sir.”
“Really? Why not”
“He’s as cagey as a hacker, sir. He apparently was using one of those free ISP’s like Hot Box, and he never sent a message from the same location.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“From what I understand sir, he used a laptop and went from cyber cafes to hotel work places, to libraries. Wherever he could rent an outlet and get on the web. He moved all over, and he only called on specific days.
We found a reference to that. She wrote something like, “I got your message on Tuesday last, and I will hope you can get this one on Friday, as you said you won’t be back on line until then. I’m not sure how you manage that, but when we get together, should we get together, perhaps you can explain the system to me.”
We’re printing all of her messages out, and then we can evaluate them and analyze them.”
“That’s great Jared. Thanks for keeping me up to date.”
“No problem sir. I’ve got a crew of technical people coming in to work on this overnight. When Detective Hallen arrives here tomorrow, we should be in a position to provide some hard information for him. We’ll know a lot more then, sir.”
To be continued in Chapter 5
December, 2006
