Behind The Lies Read online

  On Wednesday, Ricci leaves work early, telling Garcia he has some personal business to take care of. On his way home, he stops at the Paganelli Oncology Center in northwest Chicago. Unbeknownst to his co-workers, Ricci’s pancreatic cancer from two years ago has returned and is now in his liver.

  During his first bout with cancer, Ricci had surgery, then took chemo and radiation treatments to knock down the cancer. The treatments, as well as the stress of the drug dealer killings, took their toll. He started to lose weight and strength. Shortly after the first string of killings stopped, Ricci was forced to take a five-month leave of absence to complete his treatments and recover.

  Two months ago, during his regular cancer screening, he was told the cancer was back and was now in his liver. The prognosis was not good. With surgery, chemo, and radiation, doctors gave him only a 20% chance of beating the cancer. If the treatment did not work, doctors gave him twelve to eighteen months to live. With aggressive treatment, he was told he would probably be too weak and sick to continue working. After considering his options, Ricci chose to only undergo radiation treatment. He did not want to go through the sickness that comes with both radiation and chemo like he had two years ago, finally forcing him to take the leave of absence. He just wanted to feel as good as possible for as long as possible and would continue working for as long as he could. There was no sense sitting in that big house by himself just waiting to die.

  Ricci has noticed in recent weeks that he has started to lose some weight again and is not as strong as he used to be. His thrice-weekly workouts have become more difficult and he’s getting nauseous more often. But Ricci is at peace with his decision. The Candy Man Killer is back, no time to quit now.

  Ninth Attack

  It is the last Monday in September when Garcia shows up to work early to review the crime logs for the weekend. He likes to keep up on all the crime in the area, as you never know when something might indicate a connection to the Candy Man Killer. Being thorough in his investigations, Garcia looks for all possible angles.

  Garcia also likes to check the arrest logs, as Nathan Smith, aka Snowman, has still not been located and he hopes Smith will show up on an arrest record sometime. The Snowman seems to be laying low right now, as even Detective Jackson has been unable to find him.

  At about 8:20, Ricci walks in later than usual. Garcia notices Ricci looks particularly tired this Monday morning. “You doing okay Mike?”

  “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night is all. Anything on the crime log we have to be worried about?”

  “A couple robberies, minor assaults, couple drug busts,” responds Garcia. “At least no one got killed.”

  “Do we have a meeting scheduled today with Marshall?” asks Ricci.

  “Yes, at ten-thirty.”

  Neither detective makes the meeting. At 9:45, they receive notice of a ninth homicide in which a local dealer has been stabbed to death sometime over the weekend. Garcia grabs his small .38 caliber handgun and straps it into his right ankle holster. He started carrying a backup after his first-day talk with Commander Marshall. Both detectives then leave for the crime scene.

  This time, the attack took place inside a home in the East Garfield neighborhood. The victim lived on the ground floor of a two-story multi-family brick home. The front door faces the street. The victim, a young black male, was found lying on his back approximately eight feet inside his front door. He has a large gaping hole in his midsection from which a large amount of blood has flowed, soaking his gray t-shirt. The blood around the body has already coagulated and much of it is already dried. The odor of decay has started to fill the room. The only other clothing worn by the victim is a pair of black running shorts. Placed neatly across his upper chest is a Cardet kitchen utility knife. Officers on the scene find identification from the victim’s bedroom identifying him as 31-year-old William Logan.

  Upon their arrival, Garcia takes in the crime scene. “Unbelievable. Again, no obvious forced entry. He must have known his assailant. I mean, why else would his victims just allow him to come into their home?”

  “You’re probably right Juan,” agrees Ricci. “That’s why I suspect it all ties back to the drug trade. Someone is not happy with these guys. And don’t you find it curious Snowman has suddenly been invisible?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s definitely crossed my mind. But without any evidence, unless he confesses we have nothing to tie him to these murders.”

  Sergeant Pennington and Commander Marshall both arrive on-site in the same car, Pennington driving. They survey the scene. It all seems so familiar.

  “My god, what do we have going on here?” exclaims Marshall.

  “It’s not good sir,” says Garcia. “We need a break. A witness, piece of evidence, anything.”

  “It looks and smells like he’s been dead for some time,” says Marshall.

  “Yeah,” interjects Ricci, “I’d estimate Friday night or early Saturday morning.”

  “Who found him?”

  “His cousin over there,” says Ricci as he points to a young adult male being interviewed by officers. “He says he came over to check on our victim because he had not heard from him for two days. This is what he found.”

  Crime scene technicians arrive and begin the process of working the crime scene. They swab for foreign DNA, look for fibers, and dust for prints as they always do. But by now, the hope for finding forensic evidence left by the assailant is extremely low. Whoever it is, he is careful not to leave any trace of his existence.

  Garcia and Ricci go to the upstairs flat above where the victim lived to see if the occupants heard or saw anything over the weekend. They meet a single mom of three kids by the name of Naomi Madison. Ricci explains the reason they are here.

  “I heard,” Madison tells them. “When I seen all the commotion this morning I went out to see what was goin’ on.”

  “Ms. Madison,” Ricci asks, “did you see or hear anything at all over the weekend? Anything you can tell us may be important.”

  “It’s been unusually quiet down there the last two days. It’s usually a busy place, with people coming and going. You do know he sells drugs, right?”

  “Yes, we do. When was the last time you noticed or heard activity downstairs?”

  “Oh, I’d say Friday night. I heard some shoutin’, but not for long.”

  “Are you sure it was Friday night? Could it have been Saturday morning?”

  “Let me think…..Yeah, probably early Saturday morning cause I remember it waking me up. But I couldn’t tell you what time.”

  “What exactly did you hear?”

  “It sounded more like a scream. A man screaming. Again, it was really short, and I didn’t hear what was said.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Madison. If you think of anything else, please call us.”

  As they are walking away, Garcia asks, “What do you think?”

  “I think our victim was killed early Saturday. Probably laid there for two days until cousin found him.”

  “Yeah, same as the last two. Seems the Candy Man likes to work weekends. Specifically early in the morning on Saturdays.”

  After a pause, Ricci responds, “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it.”

  Back at the station, Commander Marshall calls everyone into his office for the missed meeting, including Detective Jackson.

  “Okay,” starts Marshall, “what do we know about our latest victim?”

  “We know he lived alone in the lower flat and apparently dealt drugs from the same location,” offers Ricci.

  Jackson speaks up, “William Logan, thirty-one-year-old black male, goes by Billy, has been on our radar. He’s been known to deal in all sorts of drugs, primarily selling from his house. We weren’t able to get anyone on the inside to build a case on him, but we do believe he was the source of drugs for several overdoses in the area.”

  “No surprise,” says Ricci angrily. “These unrighteous assholes are like tigers who prey on our youth
.”

  “Okay Mike, tone it down a bit,” admonishes the Commander.

  “Well it’s true,” Mike continues, “do you know how many kids in these neighborhoods have had their lives ruined by drugs?”

  “We all do Mike, but right now let’s focus on finding our killer,”

  “Alright,” says a frustrated Ricci, “Clearly, the M.O. fits our Candy Man Killer to a T. Same type knife, placed squarely on victim’s chest.”

  “Yes,” adds Sgt. Pennington, “but at a couple of scenes, the knife was next to the body. Does it just fall off?”

  There was a pause in the room before Ricci speaks up. “In all the attacks inside a home, the knives have been found on the chest. In only two attacks were the knives found on the ground, both of which were in alleys. My guess is whoever this Candy Man Killer is, he’s not in such a hurry to get out of a house as he is to leave an alley. Much more dangerous to kill someone outside, even at three in the morning. Inside behind a closed door, he can take more time to be sure the victim is dead. Therefore, when he places the knife, the victim never moves again. Outside, the victim may not be completely dead when the suspect feels he needs to get out of there. So, in at least two cases, the victim probably moved, causing the knife to fall off his chest.”

  Impressive, thinks Garcia, that is very insightful. I wouldn’t have thought of that. It’s almost as though he can get inside this guy’s head. That’s what experience teaches you. He looks around the room and others seem to be nodding in agreement, probably just as impressed.

  Garcia chimes in, “According to the condition of the body and autopsy, the Coroner believes the death occurred early Saturday, sometime between two and eight in the morning.”

  “Makes sense,” adds Sgt. Pennington.

  “Where is this Snowman character?” asks Marshall. “Weren’t we supposed to pick him up for questioning?”

  “Yes,” replies Jackson, “but we haven’t been able to find him. I think he got word we were looking for him and went into hiding. My sources aren’t saying much. There is fear amongst the dealer networks.”

  “Try harder,” demands Marshall. “We need to make an arrest. This has gotten the attention of the high brass and even the media is calling. I’ve hesitated doing a press conference because I didn’t want to overly alarm the neighborhoods, but I think it’s time. I’ll have Jackie set it up for tomorrow. Oh, and we’re going to start meeting twice a week. I expect some progress by this Thursday. Now, let’s get to work.”

  Back at their desks, Garcia says to Ricci, “the Commander seemed a little pissed.”

  “Yeah, he’s being pressured to get this thing resolved. He may be waiting a long time.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Look at what we have, not much of anything. Unless this Snowman character pans out.”

  Garcia understands Ricci’s negativity but is also getting tired of it. Garcia likes to keep a positive attitude, always believing the answers will come if they just keep at it. He figures as the pressure continues to build and with the community now more engaged, the Candy Man Killer is bound to make a mistake.

  On Tuesday afternoon, the Commander and Sgt. Pennington hold a press conference about the Candy Man Killer. Marshall announces the existence of a serial killer targeting drug dealers in the west side neighborhoods. They reveal the method of killing, but do not identify the brand or type of knife used. They do not want whoever the killer is to change his type of weapon, as it is the only fact that clearly ties the crimes together. Community members are implored to help police by providing any information they may have or to pass along any suspicious activity. Unfortunately, they are unable to provide any description of a suspect. Marshall then opens it up to questions.

  Reporter #1: “You say there have been nine murders going back over two years ago. Why have you not been able to make an arrest?”

  “We simply do not have enough information to identify a clear suspect at this time.”

  Reporter #1: “Wouldn’t this have gotten more attention and resources if the victims hadn’t been black drug dealers?”

  “No, we have as many resources on this case as we need. We are now asking for assistance from the public. Whoever this person is, he is very smart and careful.”

  Reporter #2: We’ve heard the unknown assailant is referred to as the Candy Man Killer. Is this true?”

  “Yes, that is the name we’ve attached to an unknown suspect.”

  Reporter#3: “Isn’t that somewhat disrespectful to the victims in these cases?”

  “I don’t think so, it’s just a name we’ve attached to identify the particular case. We could call it the drug dealer killer. Would that be any better? The fact is, each victim has been a known dealer of drugs.”

  Reporter #4: “Is this a case of vigilante justice?”

  “We don’t know the motive at this time.”

  Reporter #2: “What have you done to protect this community?”

  “As I said in my statement, we’ve increased our patrols of the neighborhoods, we have detectives working their sources for information, we have extra detectives assigned to assist our two lead investigators, and we are asking for help from the community. We are sharing what we know with you so that everyone is aware to be on the lookout for anyone or anything suspicious.”

  Reporter #3: “Why aren’t you calling this what it is, a hate crime?”

  “It could be, but we don’t know the motive at this time. Once we make an arrest we will know more about what is driving this killer. With that, I’m going to end this press conference. Thank you for coming.”

  On the following morning, the headline in the Chicago paper screams, CANDY MAN KILLER STRIKES AGAIN.

  “Nice,” mutters Garcia sarcastically.

  When Ricci walks into the office, Garcia notices he is not looking so well. Garcia thinks he looks thinner and a little pale. Ricci does not seem to be in a talkative mood. Maybe the case is getting to him.

  “Are you okay Mike?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  “Why don’t you take the day off, I can handle things here today.”

  “No, just a little nauseous. My ulcer is acting up, that’s all.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had an ulcer.”

  “It’ll be alright. It comes and goes.”

  “I can handle the neighborhood canvass today if you’d like,” volunteers Garcia.

  “Why don’t we split it up,” says Ricci. “I’ll take south of Logan’s residence and you take the north. Maybe we can find someone who saw something.”

  Both Ricci and Garcia go door to door looking for anyone who may have some information or saw something over the weekend that could help them solve this case. A few neighbors offer vague information like seeing a nondescript car driving in the area, or hearing screams late at night, but nothing the detectives can say with any certainty has anything to do with the case.

  Garcia does find one person who describes a dark-colored, mid-sized four-door sedan he had never seen before parked three blocks from the crime scene in the early morning hours of last Saturday. He cannot provide a make, model, or license plate, but it is more than they had gotten from anyone else. Maybe it is unrelated, or maybe not. It did strike Garcia as coincidental the described vehicle was seen three blocks away from the crime scene. In the third homicide from two years prior, Mrs. Henderson had described the person in black walking three blocks from the scene. Is there any connection?

  On Thursday, the investigative team once again meets with the Commander. Ricci is not there. He again calls in sick for the day. Garcia is becoming more concerned over Ricci’s health.

  The conversation centers around the information obtained during the neighborhood canvass. Commander Marshall says he will put the information out to patrol and send out a press statement asking residents to be on the lookout for a dark-colored sedan not familiar to their neighborhoods.

  “I know patrol will now ge
t dozens of calls over the next couple of nights on every dark-colored car someone doesn’t recognize,” laments Commander Marshall. “But, we have to put it out there.”

  “I agree sir,” adds Jackson, “the residents are genuinely concerned now, and I think this will at least give them something to do. It might also temper the tensions between some of our gangs. At least they will know the police are working the cases. I’ve had some of our people working the streets trying to keep a cap on things.”

  “Thanks Trevon,” responds the Commander. “Anything else?”

  “I’ve not been able to track down the purchases of the knives,” announces Garcia. “There are just too many places to purchase them, and they sell thousands of them. I did check with some of the major online retailers, including Amazon, and no one could find multiple purchases by any individual.”

  When no one can provide anything further, the meeting is adjourned.

  Tenth Attack

  It’s now the first Saturday in October when Garcia’s phone rings at 4:00 am, waking him from a sound sleep.

  “Hello? Oh, hi Sergeant. No, that’s okay, what’s up?”

  “Our Candy Man Killer has struck again,” advises Sgt. Pennington.

  “Oh my god, not again,” sighs Garcia.

  “Yep, this time off South Cedar in the North Lawndale area. A neighbor discovered our victim about thirty minutes ago. Heard a commotion in the back alley, trash cans and such, and went out to investigate. Found the victim bleeding out behind the trash cans. He called 911, but it was too late. He bled out before the medics could save him.”

  “Alright, text me the address and I’ll see you there.”

  “What is it Juan?” asks his wife Rosa.

  “Another stabbing,” groans Garcia, as he gets out of bed, stretches his back, then heads for the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth.

  “I’m so sorry Juan.”

  “Yeah, me too. This is starting to happen much too frequently. We’ve got to stop this guy.” Garcia quickly dresses, straps on his primary and backup handgun, grabs his brown leather portfolio, a dark blue windbreaker jacket, and heads out the door.