Mind Switch (6 page)

“What about his financial situation; any money problems?”
 

Jim had anticipated the question. “No, I did a quick credit check and he’s quite solvent. His house has been paid off for over five years, and he has virtually no debts except for an occasional revolving credit account which is always paid off within a month. He owns a three bedroom rental unit on Longboat Key, right off the ocean, worth about two million, also paid for. His present wife is the only one he has ever had, so he obviously owes no alimony to anyone. Certainly a money problem is that last thing Slivers has to worry about! And Fred, get this, he is a strong gun control advocate, in fact he has in the past contributed thousands to congressional candidates who supported gun control. He’s the last guy I would expect to own an AK47.”
 

Fred took it all in. He had hoped that a motive would have surfaced during the background check which would have made some sense to him. “Ok, Jim, then the motive for the killing spree does not seem, at least on the surface to be a bank robbery, not that I ever believed it was. Let’s see if there was any possible connection between Slivers and those in the bank that were killed or injured. Meanwhile, I want to look at the bank video.” Wondering out loud, he said, “It’s remotely possible that Slivers was not the killer and was incorrectly identified. But that doesn’t make any sense to me whatsoever.”
 

At times Fred wished he could be more like Paul, firmly holding steadfast determinations with a minimum amount of facts supporting them. If he even had a trace of Paul’s questionable ethical base, at least the internal agony over not getting the details right, and arresting the wrong man, would not haunt him.

* * *

In less than an hour the bank video arrived at the station. Fred asked Jan, his secretary, to set up the video projection in the interrogation room. He wanted to observe for himself the entire bank setting from the moment Slivers entered the bank. He picked up the intercom to call the chief to ask him to view it with him. Fred’s finger was still on the intercom when the chief burst into Fred’s office.
 

The chief blurted out, “Fred, go to the Globe theater immediately! There’s been another shooting and, God help us, this appears to be much worse than the earlier one!”

Chapter 14

Fred could not believe the level of burgeoning violence that had suddenly erupted in his city. This was a relatively small and peaceful metropolitan area which hadn’t experienced more than a few murders in the last decade. And the last murder he could recall had been the result of a marriage gone sour; now the entire town seemed to be reverting to the lawlessness of the old wild west.
 

The Globe
was only a stone’s throw from the station. Fred arrived by foot in a couple of minutes. Two uniformed policemen were guarding the outside entrance. Theater lines had been moved across the street. Moviegoers had no idea what was causing the delay, but were impatiently waiting to see their favorite holiday flick.
 

At this time of the day, patrons were usually either retired or vacationers from the north. The unemployed could not afford the nine dollar price of a ticket; and most of the employed were working. Yellow barrier tapes had not yet been placed in front of the theater; so the waiting patrons had no idea what had happened inside. Since the median age in this retirement city by the gulf is much older than that in most comparable sized cities, heart attacks and victims of old age diseases are much more of a daily way of life than that encountered in northern cities. City residents have become conditioned to the constant stream of sirens. Waiting theater patrons thought this was another transitional delay, never envisioning that it could be anything beyond that.

Fred entered the spacious multi-theater lobby. He was a loyal movie customer, finding a weekly film to be a necessary escape from the stress of his work. He found the image in front of him a unique contrast to what he normally encountered when he entered the theater. The refreshment stand looked strange, being unattended when lines of at least twenty people were what Fred was used to seeing.
 

A policeman recognized Fred immediately and directed him to theater number five. A small man dressed in an official theater employee’s uniform stood to the policeman’s left. Fred immediately recognized him as Carl, the afternoon ticket taker.

Fred entered theater five and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkened room.
 

In the confined theater room, the moans of the wounded seemed deafening. He glanced around the theater; one policeman was in sight. Fred showed him his badge, and asked why the lights were not on.
 

The policeman identified himself as Patrolman Steward and apologized that he had not recognized Fred since he was new to the force, having just graduated from the academy. Stewart said, “I guess the lights were not on because when the shooting started the projectionist took off. I suspect turning on the lights was the last thing on his mind.”
 

Fred nodded, and as his eyes started to adjust to the dim light, he noted that victims were lying all over the theater. It appeared that many, if not all, were dead. The ambulance from Memorial Hospital had not yet arrived. In fact very little time had elapsed since the bank victims had been rushed to the local hospital. Jim hoped that there were numerous doctors specializing in trauma care on standby at the emergency room, because they were going to need all the expertise they could muster.
 

Fred asked if anyone knew what had happened to the assailant.
 

 
“From what I have been able to determine, he took off right after he had shot up the room. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know so far.”
 

Fred sent Steward to the projection booth area to find the light switch. Looking over the scene, he was shocked by the macabre commonality with the brutal shooting at the bank. A major difference was that, apparently, this time the shooter had immediately flown the scene.
 

When Fred’s eyes fully adjusted to the bank of overhead lights, he realized for the first time that the horror he first observed in the darkened theater was much greater in the clarity of full light. At least ten bodies were slumped in their seats in all parts of the theater. Their lack of movement provided clear evidence that they would never enjoy another afternoon movie again. Fred guessed that another five were slightly injured; a scattered few traumatized victims seemed to be untouched. In the confined theater, the moans of the wounded seemed deafening.

Fred was not sure what to make of the unreal scene in front of him. Paul had just arrived in the theater. Fred knew that Paul was sure to pass on his “expertise” at the first opportunity.
 

Paul said, “It looks like you have a bit of a double problem on your hands. I just got back to town and went directly to the County Bank where I learned what had happened.”

With characteristically limited information supported by even fewer facts, Paul immediately deduced that in the case of the bank, it had been a failed robbery attempt. He advised Fred that it was an open and shut case and that Fred should consider himself lucky to have been the first to arrive. Now Fred could take full credit for the assailant’s quick capture and the case’s imminent solution.
 

Fred found it strange that Paul seemed totally oblivious to the macabre environment all around him. Fred said, in a forced neutral tone, “If it was an attempted robbery, why did this individual walk to the middle of the bank lobby and start firing randomly at customers as well as bank personnel? After all, at that point he was nowhere near the area where the cash was held. So what did he gain by killing bank patrons?”
 

“Because this guy Slivers panicked, it’s as simple as that. C’mon, Fred, don’t try what you always do, make a case more complex than it really is!”
 

Fred didn’t want to continue the discussion; but the pure idiocy of Paul’s comments forced him to respond in as rational a tone as he could muster, “Bank robbers might panic, especially ones that have had no prior experience, but they would logically panic in the middle of a robbery; this guy never even made it to the teller’s cage. He was at least 25 feet from the nearest teller when he started firing. In fact, according to witnesses, he started firing shortly after he entered the bank’s front door.”
 

Paul did not verbally respond but his negative facial expression provided clear evidence that he thought Fred had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

Now exasperated, Fred said, “If you will excuse me, I have another murder case here to solve.”

At that moment emergency medical personnel entered the theater and started to work on the wounded. Fred approached a middle-aged male still seated in the second row. The man didn’t appear to have been hit by any of the flying bullets. Fred asked him to describe the gunman.
 

“I had a chance to see him when he left the theater. He was a big guy, not heavy you understand, but very tall. He was wearing a suit—now who in this town would wear a suit to the movies?”

Fred agreed with the guy’s take on the relaxed dress code of Floridians, but this was no time for that type of discussion. “Okay, wearing a suit – but did you get a look at the shooter’s face?”

The man said, “Sorry, it was too dark. I didn’t really see his face.”
 

Fred gained no additional information when he interviewed other patrons. He suspected that, in the darkened theater and with the heat of emotion, no one would be able to make any type of detailed and accurate identification. To complicate matters, no one realized that the man was actually shooting until patrons started to fall over in their seats.
 

Apparently the gunman had been seated in the upper row, and from that perspective, he must have casually aimed his weapon directly at patrons seated below. The movie was a documentary based on the war in Iraq, so initially the audience likely believed the gunfire was simply a component of the movie. Too bad, Fred thought, had they realized what was happening, more of them might have escaped or at least ducked for cover.

Witnesses’ names were taken, and for the second time in less than two hours, police photographers took extensive photographs of the crime scene. On his way out Fred asked Carl, the ticket taker, if he had noted any strange behavior from any of the patrons?
 

“I sure did,” he responded eagerly, “But at the time I didn’t know what it was about. About twenty minutes ago, a tall thin man ran by me and then bumped straight into an usher. Both he and the usher fell over. But the man got up, he offered no apology, and continued running. I yelled at him but he ignored me and exited through the front doors. I thought about running after him but he was a lot taller than I am. And they don’t pay me enough to take that kind of chance.”
 

“Did you see his face?”
 

“Yes, I got a fairly good look as he passed by me.”

Fred took the ticket taker’s full name and address. He directed him to stop over to the station and look at some photos and provide a description of the man’s features to the police artist.

Chapter 15

The marvel
had watched from a distance of not more than fifty feet, witnessing Lieutenant Harris in the process of being almost crushed by two men frantically exiting the County Bank. Not part of my plan,
the marvel
thought, but at the same time certainly not an undesirable, unanticipated consequence. A broad smile accompanied
the marvel’s
realization of the massive physical damage being inflicted on this newly promoted cop.
 

The marvel
had not shot the little canine outside of the living room window two nights earlier. Not that morality had suddenly intervened; the gun simply had not been loaded yet, since its use was planned for sometime in the future if needed. Nevertheless, just the imagined vision of the little dog collapsing next to the shocked owner had brought an envisioned joy.
 

Now, a short distance from the site of the bank robbery,
the
marvel
,
obscured by the crowd of movie patrons, was observing Lieutenant Harris entering the downtown movie theater.
 

The marvel
reflected, I am certain he will be overwhelmed by what he sees and will most likely start to question his ability to deal with unprecedented multiple homicides with no obvious cause. Harris is an emotional individual, his emotions may be submerged and temporarily under control; but under stress they will surface. Engaged emotion destroys logic; and in a short time Harris will find that his organized mind will start to gradually disintegrate, mired in self doubts. Perhaps with his insecurity, he will quit on the spot. That would be a very desirable and not unexpected outcome. Actually, I could most likely enter the theater and observe firsthand his emotions since I would easily blend into the environment.

The marvel
fully understood the complex dynamics going on in the police department and knew the chief would not tolerate any delay in the solution of this emerging, heinous crime wave. Some leaders attempt to guide and temper the actions of their subordinates, but the station’s chief tended to strangle them. Harris’s proclivity to fully understand all the components to a crime, and the inherent delay that process will take, will create a seething, gradual, defining conflict with the headstrong chief. The only problem,
the marvel
pondered, while simultaneously displaying a slight facial grimace, is that Harris
is
sharp—very sharp. Of course, not nearly as sharp as I, but nevertheless he could present a future problem if he does not shortly resign or be fired. I will have to consider that in the near future; but in the meantime I will immensely enjoy the disorder that I inflict on this town. It’s great theater,
the marvel
thought, and for the time being I don’t want to spoil it.