Robert Waggoner - John - The Senior Killer

“Agent Jones that is what I came up with too. We both can’t be wrong,” he said with a chuckle. Brad liked this guy and his frankness. Too bad Jake couldn’t take a chapter out of agent Jones’ book.

The phone rang and agent Jones answered it and passed it on to Brad. Jake was on the other end saying they had another murder in a small town in the mountains called Bishop. Jake wanted to know if Brad wanted to take a helicopter ride and see for himself. Brad told him he would and he was ready when the call to take off came. Jake said the chopper was ready now behind the building and agent Jones would show him where it was.

A couple hours later they were standing in the house of one Matt Hinginger. Brad had put on latex gloves and waited for the go ahead to look a little closer. He got the nod and looked at the wound in the back of the head. It didn’t look like much of a wound, but he knew how deadly it was when a twelve inch spike was driven into the brain. Very little blood was seen and what was there had dried a long time ago. A lighter streak of brain matter and spotted blood could be seen across his right shoulder. Brad thought right that was where the killer wiped off his weapon. Brad said, “Let’s go talk to some of the Lion members,” he had heard about as the sheriff clued them in was where Matt was last seen talking to a stranger who showed up at a Lion club meeting.

The sheriff had done a good job and had all he members who were there for lunch back at the restaurant waiting for the FBI to interview them. The sheriff addressed the group and said, “The FBI would like a few words from you in a group meeting rather than individually.” He walked to the side and sat down while Jake came to the front to address the members. Jake didn’t waste any words by saying, “I don’t want hearsay; I want facts and please remember that we need information that will provide us with the apprehension of this killer. Now raise your hand if you talk directly to the stranger who came today for lunch,” he waited and a full minute went by and Brad thought that Jake had scared them off from coming forward with his harsh words. But then a hand rose tentatively from the back and an old man struggled to get up.

“I talked to both the stranger and to Matt at their table,” he said with a feeble voice. “To my best recollection we talked about the weather and then the local economy. The stranger, who called himself, Frank Laughton, was interested in some vacation property.”

Jake asked the man to tell one of his agents in more detail in a private setting. A special agent helped the old man walk into a private room used for food storage and Brad followed close behind. The storage room was spacious and the special agent made some seats out of boxes of canned goods and Brad made his own perch on a box of oranges. Rocky sat between the old man, whose name was Fred Billings, retired fireman from Bakersfield. The special agent gave Brad the nod and sat back with pen and notebook for later use. Brad asked Fred, “How are your eyes and as I see you don’t wear glasses what would you say your vision was?”

Fred said, “My eyes are fine and indeed I wear reading glasses, but on my driver’s license,” he pulled out his billfold and showed the agent, “I don’t need glasses to drive a car.”

“Fred, I want you to start with the stranger’s hands and describe what you saw. Were his fingers long or short; fat or thin; fingernails trimmed or long; hangnails and what color hair on his fingers or wrists did you observe?”

Fred sat there with his eyes closed. Brad noticed he was not so old, but crippled up with arthritis. A full head of silver hair and a nice face with smooth skin and soft wrinkles made the old gent pleasant to look at. Finally he said, “He had short, but not so fat fingers with trimmed nails. He had light brown to blonde finger hair and on his wrist too; also a Mason’s ring on his ring finger. On his left wrist was a scar about a half an inch long, but it looked like a very old scar.”

“Was there anything else that struck you as not right about this man? Such as, the age of his hands or face? The way he sat, slouched or upright; a voice that might have been nasal or off sound for his age; or what even his nose hairs were like, long or trimmed?”

Once more Fred closed his eyes and remained quiet for a minute or two. Rocky went up to him and laid his head on Fred’s leg and Fred rubbed his ears. Then Fred came back to life saying, “Nose hairs first. No nose hairs to speak of and his voice was much like a man of his age. One thing though about his lips, they were thin but an occasionally a twitch on the left side of his mouth would happen. I was at the table for about fifteen minutes and left when lunch was served. During that time the twitch only happened maybe two or three times. Now his skin was baby smooth, but his face had lots of wrinkles and he wore thick glasses, but the glasses, come to think about it, the glasses didn’t make his eyes bigger.”

“Thanks Fred, you have been a big help. If you think of anything else, call our Sacramento office and ask for Brad Pratt or any special agent for that matter.” Brad got up and left leaving the agent to ask him questions or whatever he needed to justify to Jake he indeed questioned the old man.

Walking back to the small meeting room the young girl from the motel was asking to see someone about the guy who stayed there the night before. She had remembered something and as Jake was busy, Brad overheard her and took the girl off the agent’s hands to talk to her. They moved to the main restaurant and sat down at a booth. He smiled at her and asked if she wanted something to eat or drink. She declined and handed a business card to Brad saying, “I think this guy dropped it last night. I was so sleepy when he checked in I really don’t remember much about him at all. But when he left he didn’t close the door and I went around the counter and closed it. Walking back I saw a white card on the floor and picked it up. It must have fallen out of his wallet when he paid me.”

Brad said, “You are a good person to have brought this to us; this maybe is the lead we need to catch this guy,” as he read the card and put it in his shirt pocket. Jake came out and gave Brad the nod to go. Brad waited until they returned to the Sac office before he related what the old man said and what the card showed.

Back in his office after agent Jones had the card blown up and placed on the board Jake and his assistants sat looking at the card. Brad looked at his watch and it was close to five and wondered how his wife and Mike were doing. Jake broke his thoughts by saying, “Brad what you make of this new evidence about our serial killer?” The card was a white, plain, and cheap business card advertising costumes for parties and other sundry events. It advertised: “Patty’s Party Favors” located on an off street in or near Hollywood. The usual phone number and fax number and the owner’s name: Patty Goodheart and her home phone number for emergencies.

“Check it out is all I have to say at this time Jake.”

“Well, wonder boy, I thought maybe this fresh piece of evidence would put you on the trail faster than your dog can run,” he said with a sarcastic voice. The other agents lowered their heads and were truly embarrassed by the special agent in charge of the Sacramento office.

Brad took it in stride and went on to tell the agents about his take on the eye witness who spoke to our suspect and all the details to the word. Brad didn’t need notes. His recall was perfect and that put him a cut above the others when it came to remembering details.

The meeting broke up and Billy walked through the door looking as tired and worn out as Jake. He sat down heavily and reached for a cigarette. Brad wouldn’t deny him his fix so he let him light up. Billy suggested they go back to the hotel and have some dinner. What he said was he needed to talk, but not here. Brad told him he was finished for the day and thanked the agent Jones for his help and see you tomorrow.