Confession (23 page)

“I need to start packing up dad’s stuff and clean his house,” Becky told Marty.

“I’ll help,” Marty said. 

Becky smiled at his offer.

H
is eyes widened with an idea.  “We could have a garage sale if you want to get rid of some of his stuff,” he suggested.

“That’s a good idea, or we could donate it to Goodwill,” she added.

“I like that
,” Marty said.

“Maybe you can see if that cabinet has toys inside?” Nancy asked curiously.

“Yeah, more toys!” Michael cried out all excited.

Becky and Marty chuckled over the kid’s excitement with the cabinet.

“I’ll tell you what, if I find any toys in grandpa’s cabinet, I’ll bring them home,” Becky offered them.

Nancy and Michael smiled in anticipation of some new toys.

Later that day, Sam made the hectic drive in his Toyota Camry through the maze of aggressive drivers
down Interstate I-4 to Tampa. 

He finally arrived at the FBI office on West Gray Street.  He parked his car, got out then rushed to the building with the book and
a
file folder
in his hand.

Sam walked up to Peter’s office, with Alan’s book and
file folder
.  He knocked on the wall near the opened door.

Peter
glanced
up from his desk full of paperwork.  He saw Sam standing in his doorway with a huge grin.

“Hey Sam!  It’s good to see you again,” Peter said while he got up from his desk and walked to his door.

They shook hands happy to see each other again.

“I was surprised to get your call.  So what's so important that you had to drive across the state?” Peter said while he escorted Sam to the empty chair in front of his desk.

“Well, there was this new book that came out called A Killer’s Tale,” Sam said while he handed the book to Peter.   “I read it and I believe it contains clues to finally identifying the October Slayer,” Sam said while Peter looked the book over.

“What makes you believe this book has clues?” Peter said while he flipped through the pages and saw some
Sam’s
yellow highlighted sections.

“The book had the killer dropping some Army sergeant stripes into the FBI agent’s pocket, while the agent was stinking drunk at a bar.   I drank heavily when I couldn’t catch the killer.  I found these bars in my suit pocket the next mornin
g after drinking at Cooters bar.  They’re Army Warrant Officers bars
” Sam said while he removed the Army Warrant officer’s bars from his pocket and set them on Peter’s desk.

“Do you think the killer was in the Army?” Peter asked while he picked up the bars and checked them out.

“I’m thinking he might have found out who the killer was and decided to make a few bucks.  Or, he’s protecting a fellow Army buddy,” Sam said.

Peter looked inside the back flap and read Allan’s biography.  “Wel
l he was apparently Army CID,”
Peter said then looked the book over.  “Or it could be his version of what happened.”

“That’s possible.  But nobody else knew about those Warrant officer bars but the killer and myself,” he said then reached in his folder and removed the three letters written with magazine print.  “These were sent to me while I was on the case.  I never told a sole about these letters.  And now this book mentioned these letters, pretty much word for word,” Sam said while he handed Peter the letters.

“Are you sure you didn’t mention this to someone at the Atlanta office back in the sixties?” Peter asked while he checked out the letters.

“I’m positive!”

“Your theory sounds interesting,” Peter said while he handed Sam his letters back.  He looked at the book.  “I heard this book sounded like the October Slayer, so it doesn’t surprise me you’re here in my office,” Peter said while he handed the book back to Sam.

“I knew you would agree, therefore, I think the FBI should reopen the case and start with the author,” Sam said.

Peter thought about his suggestion.  “I guess I shouldn't be surprised
at your request.  But I'm sorry
a
fiction
book might not be a strong enough reason.
  Plus don’t they put some statement that this is fiction and any connection to real life is coincidental?
”

Sam looked extremely disappointed.  “
They do, but y
ou have to try Peter!  You have to!
  I feel it in my gut,
” Sam pleaded.

Peter thought for a second while he looked at Sam’s pleading eyes.  “Okay.  I'll run it up the chain
of command
and see if they'll agree.”

“Thank you Peter.  I appreciate that and call me, if I can provide assistance,” Sam said while he shoved the letters back in his folder and the Warrant officer bars back into his pocket.

“I will,” Peter said while he got up and walked over to Sam.

“We need to get together and do some fishing.  Do you still have your boat?” Peter asked while he walked Sam to the door.

“I sure do and I would love that,” Sam while they shook hands.

“I won’t be able to talk to my boss until tomorrow morning,” Peter said.

“Tomorrow will be good,” Sam said.

Peter nodded in agreement he watched while Sam walked away.

All during the drive back up I-4 amongst the aggressive drivers, Sam knew once the FBI reopened the case, they would find the killer.  After all, the crime solving technology available today makes solving crimes easier than what was available in the 1960s.

S
am slept like a baby and his nightmares did not return.

Sam woke up in the morning and was perky knowing Peter would pull through with his request.

Sam waited on his back porch and drank his morning coffee.  His cordless phon
e was on the table by his side. 

He would occasionally glance at the phone
waiting for Peter’s call.
 

Two hours later, and Sam looked worried since Peter has not called with the news they would reopen the case.

An hour later, Sam was on his fifth cup of coffee.

“Sam, where are you?” Cindy called from the front foyer.

“I’m on the back porch,” he yelled out then sipped his coffee.

Cindy entered the back porch.  “Hey, I’m having a slow day, so do you want to go out to lunch?  My treat.”

“I’m waiting on an important phone call,” he replied while he looked at his phone and silently prayed it would ring.

“You have thirty minutes, then I’m leaving without you,” she said then walked back inside.

A few minutes later, Cindy reentered the porch with a cup of coffee.  She sat down on the chair next to Sam.

“What’s with the important call?” she asked then sipped her coffee.

“I visited Peter Bronson at the Tampa office,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right.  I forgot,” she replied then sipped her coffee.  “How did the meeting go?”

“He’s going to ask his superiors to reopen the October Slayer case,” Sam replied and got a little worried Peter was taking so long to call.

“That would be nice,” Cindy replied but she could really care less about an old murder case.

Sam’s cordless phone rang, and he quickly grabbed it.  “Sam,” he answered.

“Hey Sam, it’s me,” Peter responded from the phone.

Sam looked excited that his call finally came.

“Listen, I tried, but the guys up at the top won’t reopen the case based on a fiction book and a few items you believe came from the killer.  They want more proof,” Peter said with a tone that indicated he was sorry.

“More proof?  Just have some agents talk to the author of the book.  That might get
them some
more proof,” Sam snapped back a little pissed.

Cindy noticed and looked concerned.

“They believe the author just fictionalized the real case.  Sorry, Sam.  They won’t budge on this one.   Catching terrorists is their main concern and not some old unsolved murder case,” Peter replied from the phone.

Sam looked extremely disappointed but not yet defeated.  “I understand and thanks for trying.” 

“Sorry buddy, but I’m still up for some fishing,” Peter replied.

“Sure, how about tomorrow if you’re available?” Sam offered but still had the October Slayer on his mind.

“I believe I can do that.  I’ll give you a call later
to confirm
,” Peter said.

Sam put the phone away on the table by his chair.

“That didn’t sound like good news,” Cindy said in a comforting tone.

“The FBI won't reopen the case based on a book.  They want better evidence,” Sam said then stood up and paced around his porch while he pondered.  “Damn, I promised Gary back in sixty-five, I would find the killer of his sister.  I let him down,” he added while his guilt feeling become stronger.

“Well certainly he isn't holding you to it from the grave,” she said in an attempt to make him feel better.

“Maybe this author probably didn't know he found important clues.  Maybe I can talk with him and he’ll tell me where he got that information.  Since he’s retired Army CID, he wouldn’t mind talking to a retired FBI agent,” Sam said and his eyes lit up with a little excitement thinking about doing a little investigating again.

Cindy looked concerned with Sam.  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.  I real
ly,
really don’t.”

“I’ll just spend a day talking with the author and get some more information.  Then maybe Peter can get them to reopen the case,” he said and looked satisfied.

“Ok, but don’t let it interfere with our trip to North Carolina in a couple of weeks.  I’m really looking forward to seeing the Biltmore Estates,” she said worried that Sam would get too hung up on this killer.

“I won’t honey.  I promise,” Sam replied.

She looked at her watch.  “We better head out to the restaurant for lunch,” she said.

They left the porch and Sam locked up his house.

The drive to the restaurant, off of International Speedway near the Daytona racetrack, was quiet.  Sam’s mind was on Allan’s book and his strong desire to learn how the author knew about the officer bars and letters.

Fifteen minutes later, their lunch arrived and they started eating.

“I was thinking we could go to the movies tonight.  I would love to see the Wedding Crashers,” Cindy said.

“Ah, sure,” Sam replied but was not paying attention.  But when he heard the word movies, his eyes lit up with an idea.  “Excuse me, I need to make an important call,” Sam quickly blurted out then got up from the table.

Cindy was a little hurt while she watched Sam rush out of the dining area. 

He went outside the restaurant.

Outside the restaurant, Sam quickly made a phone call on his cell phone.  He paced up and down the sidewalk.

“George Williamson,” he answered.

“George, it’s me, Sam Woods,” Sam said.

“Sam!  How are you?  What has it been, two years?” George asked all excited about hearing from Sam.

“I believe it has.  Listen, I need some help.”

“Are you okay?” George replied with an air of concern.

“Oh yeah, there’s this book that just came out.”

“A Killer’s Tale.  I figured you would read it and realized it’s about that killer from the sixties,” George quickly responded.

“Yeah, it’s about the book.”

“How can I help?”

“Do you know anybody from Keystone Publishing Company?” Sam asked.

“No, but I have a good friend that’s a literary agent.  Why?”

“I need to talk to the author of A Killer’s Tale.  His name is Allan Stein and I need his address.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” George said.

“Great, I really appreciate it.”

“I’m now curious.  Why do you need to talk to the author of that book?”

“His book had details that nobody but the killer and myself knew.”

“Wow.  That’s interesting.  What kind of details?” George asked, as his curiosity was peaked.

“In the book, the killer dropped some Army stripes into the FBI agent’s suit pocket when he was drunk at a bar.  I got drunk at a bar and found some Army Warrant officers bars in my suit pocket,” Sam told him.

“That’s interesting,” George replied.

“Then the killer in the book sent the FBI agent some taunting letters.  The same
thing
happened to me and the letters in the book were word for word with the letters I received.  I never told a soul about the letters or bars.”

“That’s really bizarre,” George said.  “I’ll do my best to get you the address of this Allan Stein,” George said with a serious tone.

“Thanks buddy.”

“No sweat, I’ll call you as soon as I find out something,” George said.

Sam closed his cell phone and walked back into the restaurant.

Sam walked back to the table.

“What was so important?”

“I called a friend out in Hollywood,” Sam replied.

“Trying to get an acting job?” Cindy replied jokingly.

“No, I’m trying to get the address of the author of that book,” Sam said knowing he should not lie to Cindy.

Cindy looked
irritated
with Sam.  “I’ve should have known.”

“It’s something I really have to do.  I can’t let this go.”

Cindy was quiet for a few seconds.  “Okay, but you better not let it interfere with some of our plans.”

“I won’t.  I promise.”

Sam’s cell phone rang.  Cindy got bothered. 

“Sorry honey,” Sam said while he thought George already found Allan’s address.  “Hey George,” he quickly answered without verifying the caller from the viewfinder.

“It’s me, Peter,” he said from Sam’s cell phone.

“Hey Peter.”

“
Still up for some fishing tomorrow
?  I’m taking the day off,” Peter said from the cell phone.

“
S
ure.”

“I’ll call you in the morning when I’m leaving Tampa.”

“Sounds great,” Sam replied then closed his cell phone.

He noticed that Cindy was upset.  “It’s Peter from Tampa.  He’s coming over here tomorrow and we’re going fishing,” Sam told her to put her at ease.

“Oh,” she said and felt better.

But it remained quiet during the remainder of their lunch.  Sam had that book and the October Slayer on his mind while Cindy was worried about him getting involved would start the drinking with the nightmares.

The next day, Peter drove over to Daytona Beach.  He and got Sam’s Wellcraft boat into the Halifax River.   Sam had a cooler with bottles of Coke for him and a six-pack of Budweiser’s for Peter.

Sam drove out into the river and dropped anchor.  They soon had their lines in the water and drinks opened.

“It feels so good to relax,” Peter said while he kicked back.

Sam smiled in agreement while he kicked back and relaxed.

“I’m sorry the boys upstairs won’t reopen the case,” Peter said while he sipped on his Budweiser.

“Oh well, that’s the way it goes,” Sam replied and wanted to say something else but his cell phone rang.  He looked at the viewfinder.  “Excuse me,” he told Peter.  “Hey there,” Sam answered the call.

“I have the address you need and you’re in luck,” George Williamson answered from the cell phone.

“Good, can you text it to me?”

“In work my friend,” George replied.

Sam waited a few seconds and his cell phone buzzed.  He looked at his inbox and saw a text message from George.  He opened it up.  “Allan’s address is forty nine eighty four
Kent
Avenue, St Cloud, Florida.  How convenient!” George’s text stated.

“Thanks
,” Sam typed as a reply.  H
e shoved his cell phone into his pants pocket with a smirk.

Peter glanced at Sam and his gut told him that he was up to something.   He wondered for a few seconds then his eyes lit up when it dawned on him.  “Are you doing your own investigation?”

Sam looked at Peter and knew he could not bullshit him.  “Ah, yeah,” he said with guilt written all over his face.

“I should have known.”

“I tried to get the FBI to help.  But they’re not interested.  What do you expect me to do?  I just can’t sit by and let a killer get away from those horrible crimes,” Sam said with a determined tone.

“You better be careful.  After all, you’re not allowed to go shooting people now that you’re retired,” Peter said with a tone of authority.  Then Peter looked concerned.  “You’re not going to carry a gun, are you?”

“I have a gun, but I’m not going to take it with me.   I promise!”

“Good, now I’m worried you’ll start drinking again.  After all, that’s why you got transferred to Phoenix.”

“Don’t worry.  I haven’t had a drink since I retired and don’t plan on starting up again.”

“Well, I’ll pray you don’t,” Peter said then he got a nibble on his line.  “I got one!” he cried out.   Peter fought with the fish and finally won.  He reeled in a nice redfish.

They quickly put the fish on ice, and then relaxed while the boat rocked to the waves of the river.

“I bought that book.  A Killer’s Tale, and I started to read it,” Peter said.

“It’s about time,” Sam replied while he opened up a fresh bottle of Coke.

“I read the part where the young boy beat that redneck with a baseball bat to save his brother’s life,” Peter said.

“Sounds like the killer started out young,” Sam said.

“Sounds like the killer did it to save his younger brother’s life.  Then maybe he liked the feeling,” Peter replied.

“Sounds plausible, but that doesn’t justify killing all those girls,” Sam.

“I know,” Peter said then put his fishing pole away.  “Listen, I don’t think I can be of much help if you’re working on your own, but if you find some good evidence, then I’ll push it forward,” Peter said.

“That’s fair,” Sam replied.  Then he thought for a few seconds.  “There is one small little favor I need from you,” Sam said while he put his fishing pole away.

“What’s that?” Peter asked a little leery.