BY ROBERT WALTON
Previously published in the 2017 Fall issue of Bethlehem Writers Roundtable. Copyright is held by the author.
“THIS IS Chuck Burris, your Dating Game host, signing off until next week.”
“Very entertaining, Al.” Sergeant Ted Bernard, LAPD, raised an eyebrow, “So?”
Al Murphy stopped the tape. The police department’s black and white screen went to fuzz. Al looked up. “Guest number three is a mass killer of women. His name is Herb Michaelson and sometime next week he’s going to take Ellen Stiles on the date he just won. I don’t like Ellen’s chances of making it past the goodnight kiss.”
Bernard rubbed his scarred, buzz-cut head and sighed. “You got any proof of this?”
“Despite all appearances to the contrary, you’ve got a brain in that cop head of yours.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I moved from print to TV five years ago, but I’m still a reporter. People talk to me. I hear things and sometimes I see patterns you cops don’t have time to notice.”
“Go on.”
“Michaelson is really Charles Caparzo. Caparzo was charged eight years ago with murdering a 19-year-old girl in Brooklyn.”
Bernard’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”
“Charges dropped, lack of evidence.”
“What’s your stake in this?”
Al leaned forward. “Before his arrest, there were five murders and six assaults in Queens and the Bronx, all young women, with exactly the same MO. My brother’s kid Jennifer was one of the assaults.”
“Hurt?”
“Not bad. But I made Caparzo my business after he got picked up.”
“Priors?”
“Six months at Rikers for aggravated assault twelve years ago. His girlfriend.”
“Anything since?”
“No. He changed his name after the murder bump.”
“And?”
“He became a P.E. teacher at Briarcliff, a girl’s prep school in Connecticut.”
“A teacher?” Bernard frowned, “You’re kidding.”
Al shook his head. “Nope.”
“He killed some girls there?”
“No, but five girls in Connecticut and Massachusetts were killed. They went to schools in the same Lacrosse league with Briarcliff.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I told you. I’m interested. I worked with the cops back there on my own time. They always know more than gets into the reports.”
“Christ, Al!” Bernard looked down, “Bring me some evidence!”
Al unplugged the tape machine.
Bernard brightened. “Say, that video machine. You think they’ll sell those? It would sure be a break from the damned Watergate hearings.”
“It’ll never happen. The networks will never let people actually choose what they get to watch.”
***
The girl’s auburn hair spilled over her shoulder and down her left arm. Her dress, green with a delicate print of yellow blossoms, was torn and blotted with a scarlet stain.
Al murmured, “Ellen Stiles?”
Bernard nodded, “Ellen Stiles.”
“It’s been a few months since the program.”
“Yeah. You were wrong about the first date.” Bernard tossed the crime scene photo onto his desk. “He’s smarter than that.”
Al didn’t answer.
“We’ll keep an eye on him.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Still no evidence. The D.A. doesn’t go out on limbs. This is on me.” He looked at Al. “Patrols will have his license plate number. I’ll put an unmarked car on him when I can.”
“Why’d you call me?”
“You’re not a meathead like most reporters. Let me know if you hear anything more.”
Al gazed at angelic features and sightless eyes. “I will.”
***
Al cleared his throat. “Trish, I need you to do something for me.”
Trish batted eyelashes that had been working out for years with mascara weights. “What?”
“I need an Iowa school girl.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“You’re a blonde,” Al studied her. “Lose the makeup, buy a decent dress and you won’t look bad at all.”
“Stun me with compliments, why don’t you?”
“In the right light you could even pass for twenty.”
“Now I’m an old lady?”
“What was it, eighteen months at Terminal Island?”
Trish snapped her gum. “So nice of you to bring up the highlights of a girl’s past.”
“Prison is an asset,” Al grinned, “part of your education, honey. There’s $200 in this for you.”
Trish chewed harder. “And the $500 you loaned me?”
Al nodded, “All debts will be clear.”
“Deal.”
“You must have carried a blade at the Island. You still got something?”
She glanced at him, “Let’s just say I don’t walk around naked in public.”
“Good. I’ve got a guy I want you to meet.”
***
Trish, glowing in her daisy-yellow dress, sat down on the bench beside Al. “That was a piece of cake. He hit on me like a big trout.”
“You’re going out with him?”
“Tonight at 7:30.”
“This guy could be trouble.” Al frowned, “You watch him.”
Trish shrugged, “I always do.”
“Where are you going?”
“A movie. Maybe someplace after.”
“I’ll stay close.”
“You do that.”
***
Red lights pulsed through tree branches. An ambulance’s doors slammed shut. Pebbles spattered Al and Bernard as its wheels spun briefly in gravel. Its siren wound up as it gained speed.
Bernard stared at the receding lights. “Thanks for the tip, Al.”
Al shook his head. “It didn’t work out like I hoped. Think they’ll get to the hospital in time?”
“Anything is possible.”
“Damn!”
They turned and walked back toward the second ambulance.
“She a friend of yours?”
“I helped her out of a jam once. Good kid.”
They reached the ambulance. Al leaned in. “Trish, you OK?”
Trish’s teary, blood-streaked face turned to Al. “Two hundred lousy bucks for a broken nose!”
Al grinned. “Make it three — and I’ll take you out to eat. ”
Trish glared at him. “Not Clifton’s again!”
“What’s the matter with cafeterias?”
“Old broccoli, Al, old broccoli.”
“I’ll call you when your black eye fades.”
Trish’s eyebrows shot up.
“Hey, I got a reputation to think of.”
The ambulance door slammed shut and gravel crunched as it accelerated gently onto blacktop.
“Some kid!” Bernard shook his head.
“Yeah.”
“Did you see where she stuck him with that icepick? Whatever sentence they give him, it won’t be as bad as that.”
“It’s still not bad enough.”
Bernard chuckled. “Al, give her 50 bucks from me.”
***
Robert Walton is a retired middle school teacher, rock climber and mountaineer with ascents in Yosemite and Pinnacles National Park. He’s also a classical musician and is still playing his trombone in the Hartnell Community College orchestra. Walton is an experienced writer. His novel Dawn Drums won the 2014 New Mexico Book Awards Tony Hillerman Prize for best fiction. His novella “Vienna Station” won the Galaxy contest in 2011 and was subsequently published by Rosetta Books. His YA story “Asa’s Choice” was included in the July, 2025 issue of Sally Port Magazine. His other published books include Joel in Tananar, The Dragon and the Lemon Tree, Chaos Gate, Quarry, and Joaquin’s Gold.
