The Shooter

the only way to deal with the throbbing agony. Over the past few months, we’d met at this bar many times for a drink, a chat, and a laugh. Helping him had helped me.
“A serial killer.” He whistled, and then paused and sipped his beer. “Why hasn’t it been picked up by the PD? Why are you the first person to identify this?”
“Because the deaths have been reported as suicides.” I turned to him. “The victims are all lawyers who defended accused rapists. And they got them off.”
“How many deaths?”
“At this point, we’ve identified three.”
“Anything else that connects them?”
“Every death has the same MO. One week after a lawyer walks an accused rapist out of prison, they shoot themselves in the neck. But here’s the kicker—every scene has a second bullet in the wall nearby. I’m sure you know the old mob trick—shoot the guy, put the gun in his dead hand, and fire a second shot to leave the gun residue on his fingers. That’s what we’ve got so far.”
Williams didn’t respond. He stared at his drink, rolling it around on the table, before he looked around the bar. Apart from a lonely drinker near the entrance, we were the only ones there.
“So far, it’s only three but it could be more.” I paused for a long moment. “The dead lawyers are Anthony Waltz, Jeffery Stone, and Clarke Hudson.”
“I know those names. I can’t say that anyone in the department was upset when they all killed themselves. These defense lawyers go after our cops. They tear apart every bit of work that we do. If we don’t dot an i, or cross a t, then the good defense lawyers can get a case thrown out. You won’t find a lot of cops with sympathy for how these guys died. And Anthony Waltz? He walked David Chesterfield out of that courtroom on a technicality. Are you kidding me? The whole city knew that Chesterfield was guilty, and he walked out untouched. That’s a disaster, not only for the victim, but it was a PR disaster for the whole criminal justice system. The cops who had Waltz’s case probably cheered after they identified the body. Even if they thought it was murder, I’m sure it would go unsolved.”
“There’s one guy that fits the profile to be the next victim, and I talked to him, but he didn’t seem too convinced. He needs protection.”
“Name?”
“Larry Fittler.”
“Oh.” Williams scoffed. “I know him. Lawyer who’s only in it for the money. He’s not a popular guy around the department either. He takes great joy in tearing police apart on the stand. He’s even tried to tear me apart once. You’ll struggle to find a cop who’d be willing to protect him.” Williams shook his head a number of times before taking another sip of his beer. We sat in silence for a few long moments before he conceded. “Alright, Jack. I’ll play your game. Who are your suspects?”
“I need you to do some digging around about Jonathon DiMarco and a small-town cop named Matthew Wilkerson.”
“Jonathon DiMarco?” He almost spat out his drink. “He’s connected, Jack. Big time. I won’t be able to dig around about him without setting off alarm bells. He’s still connected to a lot of people in the PD. He’s a former police captain, Jack. He’s possibly the last guy you want to go after.”
“Just because he’s connected, doesn’t mean he should get away with murder.”
“You think there’s a former cop out there killing defense lawyers? Come on. And sure, he’s aggressive, but a killer? I don’t know. Even if you were right, you can’t go after someone like this unless you’ve got a mountain of evidence.”
“I know,” I pointed to my eye. “And that’s why I need you to do it quietly. I need to know if he’s connected to anyone that investigated the deaths of the lawyers.”
“I can’t do that, Jack.” He sipped his Miller Lite again. “As soon as I go near these deaths, people will start asking questions. And DiMarco? Hell, I’d be lucky to say his name without people turning around. He’s a hero to some of the force. He goes after these defense lawyers in the media; you know? These lawyers make our guys look like fools on the stand and DiMarco is seen as balancing the ledger for us.”
“DiMarco and the small-town cop were outside Anthony Waltz’s apartment only hours before he was found dead.”
“That could be a coincidence.” Williams sighed. “What angle are you taking?”
“I’m going to spend the next few days talking to lawyers, seeing if I can get the inside scoop on any connection to DiMarco.” I stretched my arms and legs wide. “But I need someone in the department to tell me if DiMarco could cover up these killings.”
“All you’ve got is a theory, Jack. That’s all it is. You haven’t given me any evidence. The department isn’t going to use resources to protect a defense lawyer based on a theory. I need evidence, Jack, not theories.”
“And you don’t think this is enough evidence?” I pointed to the note. “We’re close but I need your help.”
“I need more than that, Jack. We can’t go chasing ghosts. My case load is unmanageable already.”
The first of the construction workers began to walk into the bar. They were loud and boisterous, happy their work was finished for the week. The bartender turned up the Cubs game on the television, and the five men that walked in brought the bar to life.
“Do you need to make an official report about your attacker? Come down to the station and fill out a form. Maybe I can rustle up some of the younger guys to look into this for you.”
“No use,” I shook my head.
“I thought so.” Williams sighed. He knocked back the last of his beer and