Robert Waggoner - John - The Senior Killer

Brad came in just about the time she was nodding off. He sat on the side of the large tub which had a power jet for tight muscles when needed. She looked up at him through her almost black eyes and said, “Do you think we will catch him?”

“Yes, I think we stand a better than even chance of nailing him in McMinnville, but something is bothering me and I can’t put my finger on it. Somehow I think it is a trap of sorts, but don’t know how to explain how I feel. Early in the morning I will go for a run and see if shakes it out after a heart pounding run to the jetty. Nancy is leaving tomorrow for Portland. She will take care of a lot of details and with only a few weeks to prepare, she needs the time. We will do the publishing work at the event and find the expertise to give the historical look at the giant plane made of wood. Other than that, we just sit and wait for the pumpkin day,” as he stripped down to join her in a hot bath, and some other things that needed attention.

Sitting in the truck stop’s restaurant listening to truckers talking on the phones provided by the establishment at the booths, the brother’s Mitchell sat talking over a hot turkey sandwich. John had rented a room at the motel adjacent to the truck stop. They would stay here until it was time to make their move.

At the McMinnville airport a flurry of activity was going on making preparations for the upcoming Halloween day event for mostly Senior’s. Advertisements in newspapers and even spots on television made the event become popular. In addition the media added a warning to beware of someone you didn’t know as the serial killer was still roaming free. The Mitchell brothers smiled when they saw the ads on TV. The pickings would be good and the more people there the better to hide among, was their thinking.

Down on the coast the team spent most of their time discussing the case and or on the beach either rock climbing, running or just walking. Sujin was feeling left out as she would stay home this time around. Nancy had kept them informed on a daily basis and agent Jones was on location representing the team. Billy continued his research and nothing new came up.

Now was show time. The actors were in place and on the morning of Halloween, Brad’s teams were in disguise as grounds keepers going around in an electric golf cart tending the trash. Billy was in the FBI van tucked into a hanger behind a false wall monitoring the traffic coming in or going out. Security was tight and a life size picture of John was prominently displayed at the entrance warning all visitors to be careful.

Paul Mitchell waited in line to enter the airport under the assumed name of an ID John had given him. A driver’s license was included. His disguise was simple and effective having been shown how to do it many times over before the day to leave for the airport. The day before John had left for Fossil and he spent the night in The Dalles, Oregon just off the I-84 freeway next to the Columbia River. Next day at ten am he sat in Fossil at the local cafe drinking coffee and reading the newspaper dressed like a tourist going elk hunting up in the area of the Columbia Basin.

His story was fact finding as he was new to the area and heard that Fossil old timer’s knew the ways to hunt what the Indians called the elk: ‘The wily ghost. ’ He knew there must be lots of road hunters and coffee hunters hanging around the local cafes swapping lies. By noon he struck gold as two old timers came in looking fresh from Portland with new hunting clothes on from head to foot. Time for another two for one sale, he thought.

At the airport in McMinnville, every car that entered was checked for how many occupants and all ID’s were checked. Each license plate was checked against their registration. The FBI van was logged into a main frame so checking the license plate against the registration was fast and efficient. Cameras from both sides and front recorded each passenger and it were noted how many in each vehicle.

It was Paul’s turn to pass through the checkpoint and had his license and registration ready as the sign said. The security guard was friendly and to Paul, it seemed easy as the security guard barely looked at the license and registration. However, he was fooled as the guard was FBI and quick to check the details in front of him. It was a ruse to make the Senior Killer feel that the security was lax, but in fact is was as tight as a bow string on a fiddle. Paul parked where the parking attendant, also an FBI agent directed him to. Paul put on a baseball that had a picture of a Boeing 747 on the front and if anyone was to guess his age, somewhere in the early sixties was his appearance. He locked his car looking around the large area and large signs pointed the way to start the tour from. A roped off area and a booth was manned by another FBI agent who sold tickets for entry and a brochure schedule of events and times. Paul thought this was going to be fun and he couldn’t wait to see the giant Spruce Goose.

After buying his ticket he looked at the people around him and saw lots of old folks mixed with parents of kids at the show. Paul looked up at the cloudy sky and saw a bi-plane with a large banner streaming behind it advertising the event. No rain was forecast, but cloudy skies and fairly warm temperatures for the end of October made the event seem very nice for Paul and his potential victim. For the next hour he wandered around walking like an old man like he practiced time and time again at the motel with his brother. The main event with the speaker was set for one pm and hundreds of chairs sat to the side of the giant plane with a large platform for the speaker to address the crowd from. Paul looked at his watch and saw it was just eleven am. Now was the time to seek out a senior who was alone and not so grouchy looking to talk planes with.

Senior Killer John sat watching the two guys having lunch and a map of the area talking hunting elk and where they might go. John had the same map and he quickly looked for a remote road to take these two hunters into the hills for a last look at Nature before they made their way to the happy hunting grounds, as he laughed to himself. This was going to be too easy and thought about his brother and him doing it at the same time. What would the stupid FBI and that Batt Team think of this turn of events? He thought as he folded up his map and made ready to walk out of the cafe following the two old gents to their vehicle. He subconsciously felt his Marlin spike next to his leg in its holster and a small 32 caliber handgun if the two gents needed a little persuasion to not fight the inevitable outcome: death at the hands of Senior Killer John.

The two old timers finished their lunch and one went to pay the bill while the other one waited at the door for him. John followed suit and waited while the older looking of the two paid the bill and when he turned to leave he smiled said hello. John paid his bill and followed them out the door to the parking lot next to the street. He saw a new Suburban with a camp trailer attached to the back of the vehicle. Nice set up, he thought. John quickened his pace and said, “Hold up a minute guys, I see you have the same map I do,” as he held him up for them to see. The older of the two was standing at the passenger door while the other was preparing to get in. Wordless they waited for the hunter to approach and John could see a wary look in the old guy’s eyes. “Have you guys hunted this area before?” He asked.

“No we haven’t,” the younger one said. “This is our first time in this area, but we have hunted down in the John Day area before. We thought we might drive around and find a place to camp out and look the country over.”

John felt he had them and continued with a friendly smile, “I was going to do the same thing, but my partner failed to show up and now I was kind of looking for someone to hunt with,” he said with downcast lonely eyes appealing to the pity.