Read Online Stalking Susan by Julie Kramer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Kramer
Ads: Link
significance to the name and date. November 19 clearly means something to him. It might be a stressor connected to his past. And who was Susan? A girlfriend who dumped him? A mother who didn’t love him? If the victims were not random, these were not simply crimes of opportunity. That means these women were preselected. Stalked.”
“Give me cop talk. You know how I love cop talk. What else would that tell you about the killer?”
Garnett paused before answering. “That he’s disciplined. An annual kill seems to satisfy him. That’s a long cooling off period between crimes. And he didn’t overkill his victims either. He used enough force to get the job done. Mission accomplished. No mutilation. No frenzy. That might suggest he wasn’t emotionally involved with them. Probably views women as objects. Disposable.”
“Ish,” I groaned. “Don’t give me cop talk anymore.”
I DOUBLE-CHECKED my list of loose ends and focused on Susan Moreno’s old boyfriend, Sam Fox, her tattoo namesake. Being in jail the night of her murder proved he didn’t do it, but that didn’t mean he might not have an inkling neither he nor the cops had appreciated back then. I e-mailed Fox’s name and date of birth to Xiong and asked for a full background check.
Then I dialed Susan Chenowith’s parents. Tina answered the phone on the first ring. I’d assured them I would stay in touch, but neither of us expected my next call to be this soon or about such an odd query.
“The brand of her raincoat?” She repeated my question. “Actually I do know. It was a London Fog. She bought it used at the Salvation Army store on Nicollet. I remember she paid four dollars. It looked practically new. You’d be surprised all the nice things people donate there. After your visit my husband and I even discussed taking some of her things there. It feels like it might be time.”
I asked her to hold on to their daughter’s things just a little while longer—until after the story ran. I couldn’t risk their giving away potential clues, and I couldn’t judge what might end up being important.
Xiong must have had light duty that day, because he’d already sent me the information on Sam Fox by the time I hung up on Tina.
Fox, who’d had a history of drugs, alcohol, and petty crime right up to the night of his Susan’s death, hadn’t been arrested since. If he was currently in a Minnesota prison, there should be one more arrest. My first hunch was that he had moved out of state and I might need to appeal to Garnett to have one of his buddies run an NCIC for me, since only cops can access the national crime database. But as I paged through the file, it hit me that Fox might have accomplished the impossible: he might have gone straight.
Turns out, he had a valid Minnesota driver’s license, owned an older model Nissan, worked at the Best Buy in Brooklyn Park, and held title to a small house in Richfield with a woman named, eerily enough, Susan Fox.
T HE B EST B UY telephone operator confirmed it. “Sure, Sam Fox is working today. He’d be happy to help you.” She assumed I wished to buy a new stereo or refrigerator from my favorite sales guy—especially since I didn’t mention my name or television affiliation.
I didn’t spot him right away when I entered the store. He looked older and cleaner than his mug shot. He was losing his hair in the front and wore a Best Buy polo shirt with a nametag reading SAM . I also noticed a ring on his left hand.
Sam worked in home electronics. He was disappointed to find out I worked in television news, and that I was not there to purchase a sixty-inch HDTV screen with 1080p resolution, even though they had a great sale going on and an attractive financing plan.
“I’m here to talk about Susan Moreno.”
His eyes appeared puzzled, like he’d forgotten his old girlfriend from the streets. He took a step backward and bumped into a DVD display of the latest
“Give me cop talk. You know how I love cop talk. What else would that tell you about the killer?”
Garnett paused before answering. “That he’s disciplined. An annual kill seems to satisfy him. That’s a long cooling off period between crimes. And he didn’t overkill his victims either. He used enough force to get the job done. Mission accomplished. No mutilation. No frenzy. That might suggest he wasn’t emotionally involved with them. Probably views women as objects. Disposable.”
“Ish,” I groaned. “Don’t give me cop talk anymore.”
I DOUBLE-CHECKED my list of loose ends and focused on Susan Moreno’s old boyfriend, Sam Fox, her tattoo namesake. Being in jail the night of her murder proved he didn’t do it, but that didn’t mean he might not have an inkling neither he nor the cops had appreciated back then. I e-mailed Fox’s name and date of birth to Xiong and asked for a full background check.
Then I dialed Susan Chenowith’s parents. Tina answered the phone on the first ring. I’d assured them I would stay in touch, but neither of us expected my next call to be this soon or about such an odd query.
“The brand of her raincoat?” She repeated my question. “Actually I do know. It was a London Fog. She bought it used at the Salvation Army store on Nicollet. I remember she paid four dollars. It looked practically new. You’d be surprised all the nice things people donate there. After your visit my husband and I even discussed taking some of her things there. It feels like it might be time.”
I asked her to hold on to their daughter’s things just a little while longer—until after the story ran. I couldn’t risk their giving away potential clues, and I couldn’t judge what might end up being important.
Xiong must have had light duty that day, because he’d already sent me the information on Sam Fox by the time I hung up on Tina.
Fox, who’d had a history of drugs, alcohol, and petty crime right up to the night of his Susan’s death, hadn’t been arrested since. If he was currently in a Minnesota prison, there should be one more arrest. My first hunch was that he had moved out of state and I might need to appeal to Garnett to have one of his buddies run an NCIC for me, since only cops can access the national crime database. But as I paged through the file, it hit me that Fox might have accomplished the impossible: he might have gone straight.
Turns out, he had a valid Minnesota driver’s license, owned an older model Nissan, worked at the Best Buy in Brooklyn Park, and held title to a small house in Richfield with a woman named, eerily enough, Susan Fox.
T HE B EST B UY telephone operator confirmed it. “Sure, Sam Fox is working today. He’d be happy to help you.” She assumed I wished to buy a new stereo or refrigerator from my favorite sales guy—especially since I didn’t mention my name or television affiliation.
I didn’t spot him right away when I entered the store. He looked older and cleaner than his mug shot. He was losing his hair in the front and wore a Best Buy polo shirt with a nametag reading SAM . I also noticed a ring on his left hand.
Sam worked in home electronics. He was disappointed to find out I worked in television news, and that I was not there to purchase a sixty-inch HDTV screen with 1080p resolution, even though they had a great sale going on and an attractive financing plan.
“I’m here to talk about Susan Moreno.”
His eyes appeared puzzled, like he’d forgotten his old girlfriend from the streets. He took a step backward and bumped into a DVD display of the latest
Similar Books
