Carter's Cases Page 2

  While they danced, Karen marveled at Dan’s zest for life. Unlike many who were rich, he didn’t let the wealthy lifestyle dominate him. Off duty, he was as easy going as any random surfer you might find living in a shack on the beach. At work, he was serious, but not stuffy, cautious but not too guarded. When they were out together, he was laid back and funny. When they were in bed together, he was passionate, but tender. Sometimes she thought he was too good to be true.

  They went to his place after the club. Both sweaty from dancing, they showered together and had standing sex. He showed her how they could get clean and dirty at the same time. After, they went to bed and cuddled until he went to sleep, and it was time for her to go home and get ready for work. He was sleeping so peacefully, she didn’t bother to wake him, but called a cab instead.

  Chapter 5

  William Sweeny was born on a small farm in upstate New York. He never knew his father and had only his borderline mother’s account of what that career criminal was like. When depressed, she would whine about how he was the only man in the world good enough for her. When she was in her manic state, he was “a two-timing, self-centered, wife beating loser.”

  He remembered her getting down on the floor on her hands and knees and barking at him. This was when he was twelve years old. She would act like a dog all day long; then stay up all night cleaning the house. When she crashed, she wouldn’t get out of bed for days at a time.

  During his grade school years, he was often in trouble. Like most children, he hadn’t developed a sense of impulse control yet. But unlike most children, his lack of impulse control almost always led to someone getting hurt. In third grade, he threatened to kill one of his teachers for taking away the switchblade knife he had brought to school. He pushed his friends off the playground equipment when he wanted a turn. Where most kids would quickly learn not to do things that could hurt their playmates, Billy didn’t learn it was in his best interest to treat others fairly until late middle school.

  In high school, he had a lot of friends. He could get whatever he wanted from the girls. He was short, not good looking, his face was always covered with acne, but he had learned how to listen well and say whatever they wanted to hear. The same behavior also worked on the guys and his teachers.

  For fun, he organized cat hunts. He persuaded some of his friends with BB guns to join him while they scoured the neighborhood, looking for cats to shoot. The BBs made the cats jump and screech loudly when hit but it didn’t kill them. When he turned fourteen, he hounded his mother into buying him a 22-caliber rifle. When the sport became lethal for the cats, he couldn’t get anyone to join him. He didn’t mind. He was usually a loner unless he wanted something from someone anyway.

  He mastered the technique of manipulating people by the time he entered college. In all but one of his courses, he skated through and got good grades. If he didn’t complete an assignment on time, he could come up with such a sob story excuse, the professors often wouldn’t even have him make up the task.

  For the most part, he was able to keep the violent aspects of his personality under control. The one, major exception was at a frat party when one of the brothers began making him the brunt of some “short” jokes.

  Although only four feet, three inches tall, William’s inhibition control, weakened by a copious amount of alcohol, gave way and he threw a punch at the six-foot-tall jokester. He was rewarded with a broken nose, which didn’t heal well. The crooked nose added to his short stature, and acne scarred face, giving him the appearance of a children’s book troll.

  The only course he had trouble with was Psychology. Unfortunately, the psychology instructor recognized him for what he was. A budding psychopath. The professor struggled over how he should handle the problem. He made the mistake of confronting William during a one on one session in his office.

  “Mr. Sweeney, I wanted to talk to you today about some of the personality characteristics I have noted you exhibiting in my class. You often make comments about others that are intentionally cruel, apparently without thought about how those comments affect the recipient. I have also caught you lying on numerous occasions, sometimes without any obvious reason.

  It is obvious to me that you have manipulated others into completing your homework assignments. I know how to recognize writing styles in responses to essay questions, so I can tell you have gotten several other students to write your answers, or you have copied from them.

  These behaviors and characteristics are common in the Psychopathic Personality Disorder or, at the very least, in the Antisocial Personality Disorder.

  You must deal with this problem very directly and aggressively Mr. Sweeny. I would be willing to invest the time and effort it will take to help you learn how to get along in this world safely. If you don’t change the way you interact with others, you will most certainly get locked up at some point.”

  William thought, “Yeah, here’s another asshole who wants to hang a phony label on me because he recognizes I am superior to him in intellectual capacity. This guy couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the directions were written on the heel, and he’s saying I’m a psychopath? What an arrogant prick!”

  But William said, “Gee professor, I am honored you would be willing to give up so much of your time to help me with ‘my problem.’”

  “That’s alright, William, I don’t think there is much research on teaching a psychopath how to control his behavior. I will write a paper about it when we are successful. We can get started right after my vacation.”

  “Are you going out of town?”

  “Yes, I am taking a week off to do some hiking and rock climbing on Mt. Charleston near Las Vegas.”

  “Great, when you get back I will make an appointment with you to set some sort of schedule.”

  “Alright, and while I am away, you can start by making a list of all the behaviors you would like to change.”

  “Have a fun vacation professor, stay safe now.”

  William didn’t bother to make any list. He had no behaviors he wanted to change, and, as luck would have it, he didn’t need it. The Professor had a fatal accident while rock climbing. One of his ropes gave way, and he fell eight hundred feet to the rocks below. The local police couldn’t understand how a new rope could fail like that but had no real evidence of foul play.

  After college, William got a position in the advertising business. Even with his bachelor’s degree in psychology, the only way he could get his foot in the door was to take a job in the mail room. He wasn’t there very long, however. Due to an incredible lucky streak for him, people who held positions above him seemed to be unlucky. The mail room supervisor suddenly decided to move back east. One of the junior advertising associates fell down a flight of stairs and fractured her right hip which had to be replaced. Ironically, William ended up replacing her. Then, when one of the senior executives died from dehydration due to a severe case of food poisoning, he also replaced that man. That’s not to say he didn’t earn these promotions when they became available. Advertising is an industry where psychopathic characteristics are of great value. By using his natural charm and manipulative skills, he won over every potential client he was sent out to acquire.

  These days he went after a different prey and made a lot more money for a lot less effort. He was glad his criminal clients didn’t have the balls for killing and had to hire someone like him to get rid of their “obstacles” or mete out justice for them. He saw what he did as a valuable service, and a lot more honest than advertising.

  Chapter 6

  The prey in San Diego hadn’t been any harder to hunt than back East. He had one more hit here, then he might hang around and get some tan while he waited for his next contract. The weather was not only beautiful, but the bikinis were filled out nicely too.

  The remaining contract in town was the brother of his latest victim. This would be his first double hit. He had even m
ade a “twofer” deal on the price.

  The brother, Sonny, lived in Tierrasanta, a small residential area, mostly populated by Navy families. Patrolled by Navy Shore Patrol, there were no gates.

  He figured the military cops knew about his target’s Witness Protection Program status and would have been instructed to keep a close eye on his place. That didn’t bother him at all.

  He would learn where Johnny was going to be buried and find a good vantage point with an easy escape route near the grave site. If he couldn’t get Sonny there, he would be patient and find somewhere else to take him out. Just because the police protected him, it didn’t mean the rat wasn’t vulnerable.

  Chapter 7

  Dan coordinated with the Shore Patrol to maintain a stake out at Sonny’s place. He also had a hunch that, if The Assassin could find a spot to set up, he might use Johnny’s funeral to get a shot at Sonny. Dan and Frank planned on attending that event as well.

  The stake out went well for two days with Frank taking the day shift and Dan sitting in his car outside Sonny’s house at night. On the third day, Dan went home and cleaned up and returned to join Frank at the church where the memorial was being held.

  Very few pews were occupied. Sonny was the only family representative in attendance. A few other seats were filled by three U.S. Marshals, Dan and Frank, and a solitary reporter from the Union-Tribune.

  When the service was over, they all followed Sonny to the cemetery. The weather was nowhere near sullen enough for a funeral. The sun was shining brightly, with a gentle breeze providing a comfortable counter balance. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Disrespectful birds were chirping loudly, proclaiming their appreciation for such a perfect day.

  At the grave site, Dan was standing next to Sonny while Frank began carefully circling the perimeter looking for any place The Assassin might be sighting in on Sonny.

  “You copy, Dan?”

  “Yep. Loud and clear.”

  Just as the preacher began reading the funeral service prayers, Dan saw a glint of sunlight reflected off a rifle scope, on top of a grass covered knoll about one hundred yards away. It was directly across from where they were standing. He said, “Shooter at my twelve.” into his mic and pushed Sonny straight ahead. Unfortunately, Dan, Sonny and the casket all toppled forward into the pile of dirt which had been excavated for the grave, while a bullet went whizzing by Dan’s head and hit the Marshal standing behind him.

  Frank saw the muzzle flash and began running toward it while trying to stay as low as he could. He was too far away to get within handgun range, however, as The Assassin threw the rifle into his car, jumped in, slammed the door and sped away.

  Sweeny had seen Dan through his scope while taking a bead on Sonny and thought: “I don’t know who you are yet fuzz, but I will find out, and I will make you regret interfering with my business before I leave this town.”

  Chapter 8

  When Dan showed up for morning brief the next day, he was greeted by gales of laughter from everyone in the room. The newspaper was projected onto the wall, so the headline was readily visible to everyone. It read, “DETECTIVE PUSHES GRIEVING BROTHER INTO GRAVE – KILLER ESCAPES.” Frank was sitting in a corner chair with his head down trying to look inconspicuous, and Dan went to join him.

  “Okay, okay, said the chief. This is not the first time the press has given us a black eye, and it won’t be the last.”

  “Not if those two keep working here,” said one of the uniforms, causing the laughter to erupt once again.

  Even the chief couldn’t keep from smiling as he said, “Alright, stow it, we have a lot to cover this morning so let’s get started. First, we have an update on Marshal Clarkson’s condition. He was shot above the right hip. It was a through and through and missed all the major vessels, so he went home today.

  Next item; Frank and Dan will be pulled off The Assassin case… Not a word anyone! Unfortunately, both detectives’ names were printed in the paper, so they are both presumably targets. We won’t have to worry about covering Sonny Casciani any longer. The Marshal’s Office has relocated him out of San Diego. Dan, you and Frank can stay back here at the station, getting caught up on some of your paperwork. Alright everyone else, get out there, serve and protect, and stay safe.”

  After they grudgingly spent the day pushing paper, Frank and Dan clocked out for the day.

  “Where you headed Frank.?”

  “I have to get my ass home. The old lady is cooking up some kielbasa and ‘kraut and I don’t want to be late. It’s one of my favorite meals.”

  “I bet you have a lot of ‘favorite’ meals.”

  “C’mon now, Dan, I’m not that big.”

  “Yeah, I know, you’re just two feet too short.”

  “I better write that one down. It’s one I haven’t heard yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it Frank, I know it’s all muscle. You enjoy your dinner while I head over to the gym for a workout. I have to be careful, though. If I get too much muscle, no one will be able to tell us apart.”

  “Okay, buddy, tell Eddy I said ‘Hi.’”

  “I will, good night.”

  Chapter 9

  When Dan arrived at the gym, Eddy was waiting for him. Dan usually tried to get in three sessions a week. He couldn’t always if things got busy at work. He really needed a workout today after sitting on his butt for the full shift.

  Eddy was a retired boxer. As a means for keeping involved with the sport after his boxing career was over, he had bought the gym. When one of his customers showed some promise, Eddy would offer to train him or her to see if they had what it would take to make the ‘big time.’ He took Dan on as a trainee who was just looking to stay in shape.

  “Hey Dan, you ready?”

  “Yeah, after I do my stretches, I’ll meet you in the weight room.”

  “Sounds good, if you have the time today, you can do some cardio later.”

  Dan always enjoyed these sessions. It was hard work to motivate himself at first, but now he was cranky and felt “out of sorts” if he didn’t come in three times during the week.

  He no longer noticed the strong smell of sweat, the sound of clanging barbells or the grunts of exertion, always a part of this environment. He just focused on how good he was going to feel after his workout.

  While he was doing his weight sets, Eddy spotted for him.

  “The morning paper sure made you look bad today, eh?”

  “Yeah thanks for reminding me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know you are a great detective, Dan. I have read about your successes many times over the years. I just thought you might want to work on your balance today.”

  “Eddy, you really shouldn’t make jokes like that when I am holding two, fifty-pound weights above our heads. Maybe my ‘balance’ will give out, and they’ll fall on you.”

  “Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I don’t often get the chance to bust your balls.”

  After finishing with the weights, Dan did a half hour of cardio on a stationary bike and the treadmill. After he showered, and dressed, he told Eddy he would see him in a couple days and headed out.

  Back out on the sidewalk, he stopped and took a moment to admire the beautiful day. There were only a few spotty clouds in the sky, and the street had a row of lantana with multi-colored flowers for a hedge. He was thinking again about how lucky he was when he heard a shot at the same time someone punched him, hard, in the back, and his legs disappeared.

  Chapter 10

  Dan tried to open his eyes, but a bright light forced them closed each time. He finally gave up and went back to sleep. About an hour later, he turned his head to the side and tried to open them again. This attempt was successful, but instead of just bright light, his senses were assailed by the scent of alcohol and a beeping in tune with his heart beat. He could just barely see the plastic tub
e connected to his left wrist, and notice the beeping was coming from a monitor just to his left.

  When his eyes were fully open, it took a moment to get them focused. The first thing he saw was Karen’s warm smile.

  “Hey babe, you’ve been out for a while. It’s good to have you back.”

  “Yeah, how long have I been out?”

  “Between the shock, the surgery and recovery, you’ve been out for two days.”

  “Surgery, what surgery?”

  “Hang on hon, I’m gonna’ get the doc and let him explain.”

  Karen left the room, and a few minutes later a physician entered.

  “Hi Dan, I’m Kenneth Morgan, your surgeon. How are you feeling today?”

  “A little groggy, and my legs are hurting.”

  “Those things are to be expected at this point. We had to operate to repair the damage to your lower spine done by the gunshot wound. Do you remember what happened?”

  “Vaguely, I remember hearing a shot and having my legs give out, then nothing until I woke up just now. How bad is it, am I paralyzed?”

  “Yes, unfortunately, you are, at least temporarily, but with the right care and time, you may regain some, or all, function again. Let me explain. The bullet entered your spine below the actual spinal cord in a nerve area called the ‘cauda equina’ or ‘horse’s tail.’ This is where nerve fibers from the spinal cord fan out into different areas of your lower body to provide movement and sensation.”

  “Is that why I have so much pain in my back and legs?”

  The bullet caused several bone fragments from the spinal column to compress these nerve fibers. This compression can cause paralysis of your legs, decreased perineal sensation and loss of bladder and bowel control. In your case, bladder and bowel control have been left intact, your legs have been paralyzed, but you can feel pain in them, and you will not be able to achieve an erection. Now, with proper physical therapy and time, the damaged fibers can regenerate somewhat, or even completely.”