Murder, Part 3

Chapter 3
He takes a long drag and exhales, watching the wisps of smoke curl and dissipate. There aren't enough cigarettes in the world to block out the memories he's plastered to the wall. Not that that's going to stop him.
It doesn't make sense that he still feels this way. By all rights, he should be looking at those pictures with pride. It may just be in an advisory role, but he's helping in an investigation, one that could revitalize his career. Or at least the general media's interest in it.
But he can't shake that sense of shame that looms over everything he's done in the last twenty years. It doesn't make sense, but it's there.
He's been on the case for nearly a week, now. If the pattern continues, there are only a few days left before the new Couples Killer takes another set of victims. And Walter is clueless.
He has gone over every file, every newspaper clipping, ever piece of memorabilia available to him, and not a single lead has come to mind. It seems a river of alcohol twenty years deep has dulled the edge of his criminal instincts.
It doesn't matter too very much, though. Even if his involvement with the case only goes this far, the media will still have a field day. “HERO COP HELPS IN SECOND COUPLES KILLER CASE.” It doesn't matter what the actual truth is, the headlines can only say so much. Money and fame are mutually exclusive, and neither one gives much thought to reality.
Still, he'd like to be able to say he's helped to some capacity. A general opinion is coming about that Kennedy wasn't really much of a president, and it took fifty years for the American public to let that become more important than his legend. What kind of shelf-life will Walter's legend have? Hopefully just enough to last through to his death.
There's a knock at the door, and Walt waits for it to go away. But it doesn't.
With a sigh, he gets up and answers.
It's James.
“Hey, Walt. Mind if I come in?”
“Uh, sure, come on in.” As he closes and locks the door behind the kid, he says, “What brings you out here?”
“Have you found anything?”
Walt takes a deep breath, looking around the entryway. “I've been trying a while, but nothing's come to me.”
The kid seems distracted by the memorabilia on the walls. “You've kept all this stuff for all these years,” he says. “I can't imagine what it must be like to be that successful. You know, I did my dissertation on the original CK case.”
Walt leads him into the living room. “Is that right?”
“Yes sir,” he says with a prideful smile. “I was at the speech you gave at UCLA a few years ago, I tried to meet you afterwords but you vanished pretty quick.”
The kid's attention is drawn to a short, rusty knife in a glass case on the wall.
“That's the knife he used to kill the husbands.”
The kid seems surprised. “They let you keep it?”
Walt shrugs. “After being closed for so long, evidence stops being a thing of necessity. The department was going to throw most of it out, but I took it with me when I retired.”
“Throw it out?”
“Yeah, they were modernizing the precinct and didn't want to deal with all the clutter. A lot of important information got nixed, all that's left is a, a read-out on a computer says what happened to who and why. A paragraph maybe.”
“That's a shame. It's not like that anymore, I can tell you.”
“Well, it was a more innocent time. Can I get you something to drink?”
The kid shakes his head. Walt pours himself a glass of whiskey. When he sits down, the kid follows suit.
“So, I take it you didn't come out here in the middle of the night to bemoan the mistakes of the past?”
He smiles. “No sir, there's just something I want to run by you. It hit me like a tidal wave, you know? And I had to share it with someone, just to make sure I wasn't crazy.”
“Well, share away, son.”
The kid nods. “So, we know the new couples killer is someone with an intimate knowledge of the case. And we know there are some details about the original killings that were never released to the press. So the new killer would have to be someone who knew the original killer. Maybe an unknown accomplice or a friend-”
“Son, I know the case like the back of my hand, and I can promise you that Milovich didn't have any friends. His family was gone before he was out of adolescence, and he didn't like people. He would never have had an accomplice.”
The kid's smile fades. “Oh.”
“It's not a bad idea, son. You're thinking out of the box. But it doesn't hold water.”
“Oh, I see.”
The kid looks down and stutters for a few moments.
“Well, I'm sorry I wasted your time, Walt. I'll try to think harder next time.” He gets up and starts to leave, but Walt stops him.
“Hey, kid, don't worry about it. There's nothing to feel bad about, okay? I was in your shoes once, I know what it's like. But I'm telling you, going down that road is a waste of time. I can only say that because I have the experience to back it up. We're going to find this sumbitch, you understand?”
The kid nods.
“Walt, do you mind if I... Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Sure son, go ahead.”
“How do you balance family with...” he gestures towards the murder hall of fame, “all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since I got this case, I've been spending all my time trying to find something. But things between my wife and I have gotten... Well, not any better. How did you deal with it?”
Walt looks at him and considers the answers he could give. But for once he feels like being honest.
“I didn't.”

The room is hot, at least twenty guys are sitting there trying not to be angry. Walt is twiddling his thumbs and sipping on a mug of spiked coffee.
He had a long night.
After what seems like forever, the door opens and the police chief comes in.
“Sorry I'm late, fellas. There was a wreck, blah blah, tell me we've got something.”
Dead silence across the board. He runs a hand through his hair as he reaches the front of the room.
“So that's it, then? Quadruple homicide and we've got nothing?”
“Actually, sir,” Walt says, “I think I may have something.”
He gets looks from everyone in the room, but the only one he notices is the one he gets from the kid. Walt looks away and steps up next to the chief.
“Alright, what have we got?” he says. “Nothing. Same deal as with the first killer, and that's why you brought me on board. No evidence left at the scene, no suspects, nothing. So, I figure we look back on the case this one is imitating. What if the original CK had an accomplice we never knew about, or a friend he may have blabbed his feats to? That's the only way these things could be happening the way they are. So I looked back through my records and found a whole slew of people who are potential suspects. Old college buddies, neighbors, ex girlfriends.”
The chief is handed a folder with a list of names, which he hands off to someone else. “It's a stretch, but it's worth a shot. I want a background check on every name, find out where they are and what they're doing before the day is out.” He looks at the kid. “Good thinking, bringing this guy on.”
James's mouth is just slightly open, and as the chief leaves the room, others get up to leave. But James stays seated and stares at Walter with a look of disbelieving confusion on his face.
Walt walks right by him, giving him little more than a cursory glance through the crowd.

James catches up with him outside the building.
“What was that?”
“It was what it was.”
“You stole my lea!”
“I did what I had to! You have no idea what it's been like for me, kid. Whatever it looks like, I have not been successful. I have been riding on the heels of the CK case since it wrapped, and I've practically gone bankrupt. I'm sorry I lied to you, kid, but you'd never have agreed to give me the shot if I'd asked. You have to understand, this is my last chance to ever amount to something. You still have your whole career in front of you.”
The kid's expression has softened, but Walt can't tell his emotions.
He doesn't say anything. He just walks away.