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Authors: Julie Kramer
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airplane malfunction. But most days I’m not that clearheaded. In network news, competitive advantage often comes down to how fast the assignment desk can get someone to the scene of a breaking story. If you’re a reporter for one of the big three, you spend more time in the air than on the air.
“I’ll drive you,” he said.
“Thanks, but it’s an early-morning flight. I’ll just take a cab.”
“No, I mean I’ll drive you to Vegas.”
We left the next morning. Four days later we were husband and wife.
CHAPTER 10
I walked a couple miles through downtown Minneapolis, lingering at the farmers’ market on Nicollet Mall. Squash, potatoes, and other fall food beckoned from the small booths. I continued through Loring Park, savoring the crisp Indian summer weather before heading back to Channel 3. I slipped in the security desk entrance to avoid walking past Noreen’s office, since being blind wasn’t one of her shortcomings.
Once again, I faced the SUSAN chart, as if staring at it long enough might produce physical evidence linking the two murders.
I’m experienced enough to concede that what I was searching for might not exist.
I unloaded the interview videotapes of Susan Chenowith’s parents from my black bag so I could log them later in the day. For daily news stories it’s much faster to just pull a sound bite and drop it into the script. For investigative stories, I like to transcribe each interview verbatim, because sometimes something crucial hinges on a remark that didn’t seem significant at the time.
I pulled the raincoat photo her mother had given me from my notebook. So this is what Susan Chenowith wore the last time she left home. I added the picture to her homicide file, then stopped, a bit puzzled. She wasn’t wearing a raincoat in the crime scene photos. Wrong Susan. The raincoat was on the second Susan’s body. Side by side, the coats looked identical, but the style—tan, knee length, belted—was commonplace. RAINCOAT ? I wrote on the wall chart.
“L ET ME GET this straight.” Garnett paused on the other end of the phone line. “You think the unsub took a raincoat off the first victim and put it on the second victim one year later?”
“Maybe.”
“Too wild. You’d have to be talking about a perp with the sophistication of the Zodiac Killer.”
Every homicide cop in America knew about the Zodiac, the killer who took credit for seventeen murders in California in the late 1960s. He taunted police and media with dozens of letters containing codes and a trademark salutation: “This is the Zodiac speaking…” While the crimes appeared random, the killer insisted he picked his victims based on their astrological signs. Evil and elusive, the Zodiac was never captured. The cases were never cleared.
“It’s the first possibility of physical evidence linking the cases,” I said. “Maybe the killer wants us to know. Remember the show-off factor you were pushing?”
“Show-offs aren’t that subtle. He’d be much more in our face. The raincoat can’t be proven. We aren’t dealing with first graders whose mamas write their names inside their clothes.”
“Where would the raincoat be today?”
“Homicide case? No statute of limitations? In the property room. That stuff is saved forever.”
“Can you get me in to see it?”
“I’m off the force,” he argued. “You’ll have to take it up with Chief Capacasa, and lots of luck there. He’s an amateur chess champion, so he’s always a move ahead of everyone.”
“Well, eventually he’ll know about the story because I’ll need an interview. So I guess it’s sooner rather than later.”
“Later is better. Do some more legwork before you start pissing off the top brass.”
“All right, I won’t head for the cop shop yet, but when I get there, I’m going to mean business.”
“Fine,” Garnett said. “I suspect these cases can’t be cleared unless you figure out whether there’s a
“I’ll drive you,” he said.
“Thanks, but it’s an early-morning flight. I’ll just take a cab.”
“No, I mean I’ll drive you to Vegas.”
We left the next morning. Four days later we were husband and wife.
CHAPTER 10
I walked a couple miles through downtown Minneapolis, lingering at the farmers’ market on Nicollet Mall. Squash, potatoes, and other fall food beckoned from the small booths. I continued through Loring Park, savoring the crisp Indian summer weather before heading back to Channel 3. I slipped in the security desk entrance to avoid walking past Noreen’s office, since being blind wasn’t one of her shortcomings.
Once again, I faced the SUSAN chart, as if staring at it long enough might produce physical evidence linking the two murders.
I’m experienced enough to concede that what I was searching for might not exist.
I unloaded the interview videotapes of Susan Chenowith’s parents from my black bag so I could log them later in the day. For daily news stories it’s much faster to just pull a sound bite and drop it into the script. For investigative stories, I like to transcribe each interview verbatim, because sometimes something crucial hinges on a remark that didn’t seem significant at the time.
I pulled the raincoat photo her mother had given me from my notebook. So this is what Susan Chenowith wore the last time she left home. I added the picture to her homicide file, then stopped, a bit puzzled. She wasn’t wearing a raincoat in the crime scene photos. Wrong Susan. The raincoat was on the second Susan’s body. Side by side, the coats looked identical, but the style—tan, knee length, belted—was commonplace. RAINCOAT ? I wrote on the wall chart.
“L ET ME GET this straight.” Garnett paused on the other end of the phone line. “You think the unsub took a raincoat off the first victim and put it on the second victim one year later?”
“Maybe.”
“Too wild. You’d have to be talking about a perp with the sophistication of the Zodiac Killer.”
Every homicide cop in America knew about the Zodiac, the killer who took credit for seventeen murders in California in the late 1960s. He taunted police and media with dozens of letters containing codes and a trademark salutation: “This is the Zodiac speaking…” While the crimes appeared random, the killer insisted he picked his victims based on their astrological signs. Evil and elusive, the Zodiac was never captured. The cases were never cleared.
“It’s the first possibility of physical evidence linking the cases,” I said. “Maybe the killer wants us to know. Remember the show-off factor you were pushing?”
“Show-offs aren’t that subtle. He’d be much more in our face. The raincoat can’t be proven. We aren’t dealing with first graders whose mamas write their names inside their clothes.”
“Where would the raincoat be today?”
“Homicide case? No statute of limitations? In the property room. That stuff is saved forever.”
“Can you get me in to see it?”
“I’m off the force,” he argued. “You’ll have to take it up with Chief Capacasa, and lots of luck there. He’s an amateur chess champion, so he’s always a move ahead of everyone.”
“Well, eventually he’ll know about the story because I’ll need an interview. So I guess it’s sooner rather than later.”
“Later is better. Do some more legwork before you start pissing off the top brass.”
“All right, I won’t head for the cop shop yet, but when I get there, I’m going to mean business.”
“Fine,” Garnett said. “I suspect these cases can’t be cleared unless you figure out whether there’s a
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