That evening had started quite well.
“Hey, you’re looking good.” He ambled up to the Ford, white teeth shining in the dark. She was leaning against the hood. She moved her finger suggestively over her lips.
“You’re not so bad yourself. Get yourself in here BG.”
They drove to the park that backed onto his hotel golf course and turned into a sheltered spot off the road. She switched off the ignition. She was eager to get it on.
“Back seat, ok?”
He grinned. Easy lay. BG was in a good mood. Emmy was a good lay, he gave her that. It didn’t take long to pump her brains out and she loved it. She had used a mini camera. The pictures were candid, very candid. Too bad he had to leave town the next day, he could have had more of her. But it was a heavy schedule for a couple of weeks until they reached Longfield, the coach had said. Then the team could lighten up a while before the big game.
Then it all went wrong.
They had cleaned up their clothes and were preparing to leave. The car door was yanked open and someone poked an arm inside. Someone with a gun. Not someone, Ruth. Insanely jealous and in a rage.
“Bitch,” she spat, waving it at Emmy. “What you doing with my man?”
BG reached over and grabbed the gun, and rolled out of the car. He wrestled with her. The gun’s safety tripped off. It fired. BG looked disbelievingly at the blood. He waved Emmy over to take a look.
“She’s gone,” said Emmy. “No vital signs, no pulse.” They looked at each other. He panicked, dropped the gun and ran. That was a mistake.
One photo was a picture of Ruth. Lying on the ground, dead. The second showed the gun. The third one showed him naked with a hard-on. The final one showed the used rubber. The letter stated the facts. One dead person. One gun with his fingerprints on it. One DNA match. Demand of $50K to be immediately wired to a bank account in the name of Emerald Parton, or else. The ‘or else’ would end his career, he could not involve the police, nor could he ignore the blackmail. He was in deep shit.
Stewart Mackenzie studied BG’s body language. They were sitting in BG’s room, both drinking sodas. He was not telling the truth and he was acting real nervous. “Your Admin guy says this girl worked in the media unit. Ruth De Maggio. Well she did until she up and left at Stockton. You know her?” asked Mac.
“That’s right.” BG’s eyes moved to the left. Fact. True answer.
“How well you know her. Was she a girlfriend?”
“I hardly knew her.” BG’s eyes moved to the right. “I mean she arranged media coverage for the team, that’s all.” Imagination. Untrue.
“Why’d she leave?”
“No idea, maybe someone in her family got sick or something.” Untrue, again. “Why you ask?”
“Mr. George, she was found dead up in Stockton.” He gave her picture to BG. “This is Ruth, right?”
“Yeah that’s her. Too bad; she was a real friendly girl.” He gave back the picture. “Well the shooting’s got nothing to do with me.” Untrue.
Mac put his soda back on the floor and said slowly. “I never said she was shot.”
BG shifted uncomfortably on his chair and swallowed his soda. “Yeah well, I mean most killings are shootings, isn’t that true?”
Mac let that statistic ride. It was true; guns were used much more than knives. He finished his soda, got up and placed the picture back into its plastic cover. “Thank you Mr George, you’ve been real helpful.” Especially now he had his fingerprints.
“Mac, those fingerprints you sent me. Sorry no match. Either the perp wasn’t at the crime scene or someone wiped them clean,” said Elmer Layton. “Whose are they?”
“Babe George, no less. But he lied to me about not knowing the girl. I found a photo of him in her apartment. Message on back was intimate.”
“So what now?”
“Was there anything else happening, anything at all that might be connected?”
Elmer hummed a little. “Well there was the missing girl. Vanished overnight, left her car in the parking lot at the back of Joe’s Joint, keys in the ignition. Her boyfriend was real upset at the time; not about her so much, but that he’d have to make out on his own. We found nothing except the photo shoot pics I sent you.”
“What about the Ford?” Mac was hoping.
“Negative, Ford was clean. And I mean clean as in wiped clean.”
“What’s your hunch on that?”
“Someone didn’t want us to find something. Someone who has forensic skills.”
“That still fit your profile of the serial killer?”
“Mac, I don’t know, it doesn’t smell right. Maybe I got it wrong and it’s just another homicide. Maybe even a copy cat. But I’ve still got a bad feeling about it.”
“Okay, you got my interest up. I’ll clear it with the chief and dig some more. Maybe put some heat up BG’s backside, see what hits the fan.”