Justice and Revenge Page 5

  “We didn’t touch the shoe when we found it, did we, Helen?” Ginny said, looking over at her friend. “We didn’t fool with the evidence. We know better. We’ve been very well trained.”

  “No, we didn’t touch a thing. We have witnesses to prove it,” Helen said. “We watch enough television to know not to do that. And we’ve worked with the Neighborhood Watch Group before. Ginny and I know what we're doing. And she’s right. We’re well trained.”

  “Are you sure it was Lissa’s?” Albert said. “Maybe it belonged to another girl. A lot of the teens are wearing that particular style of shoes. My own teenage daughters wear them.”

  “We’re pretty sure. And that’s what we told the police officers when they went to retrieve it. She was wearing gray ballet-style slippers with strings of pretty beads on them. They were laced up her legs that night. She lifted her skirt to show them to us. We’re positive it’s hers. We were lucky to have found it. It was Helen’s idea to go looking. We went along the beach and looked around. Some of the Neighborhood Watch Group joined us, and we walked across the sand from the sea oats to the ocean. Anyway, when we spotted her shoe in the grass, I called the group to join us so they could witness that we didn’t touch it. I telephoned the police, and we stayed right there guarding it until they arrived so no one else would touch it either. I’m rather proud of all of us.”

  “She must have taken them off when she was walking along the water with Bergen. I mean Karl Blass, so they wouldn’t get wet,” Helen said. “It’s so confusing. I’m going to call him Karl Blass from now on.”

  “Me, too. That’s his real name,” Ginny said. “I told the policemen the same thing you did, Helen. That Lissa must have taken them off so as not to soil them when she was walking with Blass.”

  “I suppose the police interviewed you then,” Albert said. “Since you two were the last people to see Lissa alive. Besides Blass,” he added. “I hate saying it like that. It sounds as if he killed her.”

  “I know what you mean. It sounds final. I don’t like it.” Ginny said. “And yes, the police did come to my home and interview me. After they bagged the shoe and finished searching the beach, they walked to my house and asked a lot of questions. We told them everything we knew. Like, how excited Lissa was to be meeting him. Everything she said about him. What she was wearing. What time we saw her. Everything. We even showed them where she was standing when we spoke with her that night. Before they left, they said they were going to dust the shoe for fingerprints to confirm it was the same one Lissa had on.”

  “The police already came here and checked her locker and some other items she touched for her prints. I suppose they’ll compare them to any prints they find on the shoe. See if they match,” Albert said. “They fingerprinted all of us, too.”

  “This is all very upsetting,” she said. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “The officers took her things from her locker,” Albert said. “Some personal items, like her beach bag with her swimsuit and towel, were gone. She must have taken them with her the last time she worked here. I sure hope that whatever they got helps bring that killer to justice.”

  “What I can’t understand is where Lissa lived,” Helen said. “And where are her parents? No one has come forth to claim her. Even after the newspaper articles on her. We’re hoping someone will recognize her.”

  “I wish I knew the answers to those questions. The police are convinced she was a runaway from another part of Florida. Or maybe even another state. Why else would she give us a fake social security number and address?” Albert said.

  “I can’t think of any reason she would do that,” Ginny said. “Unless it’s like the police believe, and she was a runaway. I hope they fry that Karl Blass.”

  “Me, too,” Helen said.

  “I’m trying to keep an open mind, but the evidence against him is growing,” Albert said. “Especially since they checked his fingerprints and found out who he really is, ‘The Beach Boy’ killer. Everyone was looking for him. He got off for that murder in New Jersey. Then his DNA or a sighting of him turned up where more girls were murdered or missing. All either at the beach or nearby. And that crazy twist about the ice cream. It turns up at the crime scenes. Weird.”

  “A couple of the other girls were redheads, too, according to the paper,” Helen said. “He must have had a thing for young redheads.”

  “He’ll be sorry he came to Florida,” Ginny said. “We have capital punishment here and aren’t afraid to use it.”

  “That’s right,” Helen said. “Ted Bundy won’t be murdering any more women now.”

  “Blass won’t get any sympathy from me,” Ginny said, her eyes misting over. “I'm telling you, I hope he gets the death penalty.” She shuddered.

  Helen noticed that was the second time her friend had said that and said, “I’m sorry, Ginny. This must be terribly hard for you. Given what happened to your Bobby and all.” She patted her friend’s hand.

  Helen and Albert shared sympathetic glances, remembering how Ginny’s only child, Bobby, was found murdered a few years ago. In his late thirties, Bobby was knifed for the $25 he had in his pocket. His killer, Glen Spade, accosted the young man on his way home from a convenience store. Two eyewitnesses pointed the finger at Spade, a local drug dealer. Spade’s fingerprints were all over Bobby from when he rifled his pockets. Spade said he did that after finding Bobby already dead. He was put on trial but got off because the chief witness recanted her testimony, refusing to talk during the trial, and the second witness left town for parts unknown.

  “I manage to do what I have to do and make my peace with that,” Ginny said. “I had to, to keep from going crazy. Glen Spade can’t live forever and justice will be served in the after-life. Although, I would love to witness him getting what he has coming to him here and now. I would pay anything to make that happen.” Her eyes became hard. “Anything.”

  At the Brevard County Sheriff’s jail...

  “You’re gonna have to help me, here, Blass, if I’m going to help you,” Attorney Tyler Graham said, leaning in to his client. “I need to know the truth about what happened that night on the beach. You have to tell me everything again. Leave nothing out.” He leaned on the desk.

  “I told you the truth,” Blass hissed. “Nothing happened. I’ve been set up. That’s what happened.”

  His counsel rolled his eyes and closed a folder he had opened. How many times have I heard that lame excuse?

  “Hey,” Blass shouted. “If you don’t believe me then get out of here. I need a lawyer who’s behind me all the way.” He glared at his attorney. “And I want to sue that officer who threw me into the thorn bushes. Some of the wounds are infected. If the clerk hadn’t put ointment on me, it would have been worse.” Blass opened his shirt, exposing welts and sores on his chest.

  “The officers say that she tackled you,” his lawyer said. “You were running away from her. There were eye witnesses.”

  “Liars,” Blass said. “She pretended to tackle me but instead pushed me into the thorn bush. Do you think a stupid woman could tackle me? No way. She pushed me.” He buttoned his shirt back up. “She’ll pay for that.”

  “Watch your mouth, Blass,” Tyler said. "That’s a threat against a police officer. You’ll find yourself in more trouble than you already are. There were quite a few eye witnesses who saw her tackle you. But I don’t want to argue about that now. We don’t have much time here, so let’s go over your story again. You were supposed to meet Lissa at 8:30 that night, right?” Tyler said. “Then what happened?”

  “Right,” Blass said. “I was to meet her at 8:30 p.m. I went down to the beach where we said we would meet. I got there about 8:15. It was dark out, and no one else was around. I kept checking my watch ’cuz I was looking forward to seeing her. She’s a good-looking girl.” He grinned. “Just what I was looking for.”

  “A bit young for you, wouldn’t you say?” Tyler said. “I mean, you’re 24 years old, and she was only
17.”

  “Hey, can I help it she thought I was a lot younger?” Blass said. “I appeal to women of all ages.”

  His attorney let that slide.

  “Did you tell her you were 18 years old?” Tyler asked. “That’s what the witnesses are saying. Lissa told them you said you were 18. That you lived at the motel with your parents since your house was being remodeled and wasn’t finished yet. Any of that sound familiar? What was that about? You don’t have any family in this state. You don’t even own a house here. And you haven’t worked any job long enough to earn any money to buy one, let alone remodel it.”

  “Lies. All of it. Lies. They’re all lying. Lissa, the cops, all of them.”

  Despite the tough talk he was dishing out, Blass was pretty shook. She must have blabbed everything she knew. I didn’t think she’d do that. I’ll have to be more careful in the future. Take them down before they can talk.

  “She must have misunderstood me,” Blass said. “Geez, do I look 18? I mean I look really good, but not 18.”

  “Yes, you do. And that’s the wrong question to ask,” his attorney said. “Don’t ever ask that of anyone. Especially if you get on the stand. Because, with your face and physique, you could look 18. Have you forgotten already the trial I got you through up north in Atlantic City? ‘The Beach Boy,’ the press and police called you. You were 20 then and told Charlotte you were 16. The story you told Lissa is very similar to what you told that girl. And the circumstances surrounding this girl’s disappearance are way too close to that case for comfort. The police are smart. They’re going to use that against you.”

  “What are you saying? You’re supposed to be on my side. I was found not guilty. Remember? A nice jury let me go.”

  “I still can’t believe you got off. If we wouldn’t have challenged the handling of the DNA evidence and created doubt, who knows what would have happened? Those bleeding-heart liberals on the jury bought the story of your sad, abusive childhood, or they would have looked at the evidence a lot closer. And you would have been convicted and locked up.”

  Tyler harbored uncomfortable feelings about his contribution to enabling a murderer to get off, only to kill again and again. Assuring that a murderous client’s rights are not violated during proceedings had been personally costly to him, and he didn’t know if he could continue doing so.

  “I passed the polygraph, remember? I didn’t kill Charlotte. I told you then, and I’m telling you that now. I’m innocent, and the jury knew it. And I didn’t kill Lissa, either. I don’t know where she is. The police don’t even know if that’s her real name,” Blass said. “Come on. Let’s do the lie detector test.”

  “They’re not going to offer you a lie detector test this time. They looked into your past record and saw where you beat it several times when they knew you were guilty, so they’re not going to ask for it. I might, though,” Tyler said. “Even if it’s not admissible in court, it looks good on the news when you pass it. Of course, you know that sociopaths can answer questions about their guilt without becoming anxious or sweating so they pass the test.”

  Blass smiled. “What does being a sociopath have to do with me? It’s a good idea for me to take that test. I know I can ace it again. Let’s do it today. Now.”

  “We’ll see. Let’s get back to the night you were supposed to meet Lissa,” Tyler said. “How long did you hang around waiting for her at the beach?”

  “Like I said, I got there at 8:15 p.m. She was supposed to arrive at 8:30. I stayed there until 9:30. It was nice out that night, so I didn’t mind the wait.”

  “Why’d you wait around so long? Most guys would have left after a half-hour,” Tyler said. “I know I would have.”

  “I told you she was worth waiting for. And she told me she might be late and to wait for her, so I hung out,” Blass said. “She said she was going to have dinner with her parents and wanted to meet me after that. So, I stayed. Besides, we were meeting right behind the motel where I was staying.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I coulda’ waited all night, really.” He regretted losing his prey.

  “You are aware that Lissa had no parents that anyone knew of?” Tyler said. “So she couldn’t have had dinner with them. The police went to the address she gave her employer, and it’s a vacant lot. Nothing. No house, no family. Even her social security number was false. Not only do we not know where she is, we don’t know anything about her.” He tapped his pencil on the desk. “The police think she was probably a runaway from another state, living here for the summer. What do you think of that?”

  Blass was beginning to realize how bad that made him look and was starting to feel sorry for himself.

  “That little liar. She told me she went to a Catholic High School. That she lived on the mainland all her life, and that she had chores to do after dinner so she might be late for our date. I believed her. What a stinking liar.”

  “One liar talking to another, Blass. That’s no defense. According to witnesses, you told her you just graduated from a charter school. And that you were going to attend Auburn University in the fall.” He smirked, thinking this bum couldn’t get into a high school let alone a college. He leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling, overwhelmed how the case was stacked against his client.

  Blass was thinking about Lissa. She puzzled him, and he wondered how could he have made such a poor choice for a victim. What a big-mouth stupid broad.

  “No. I never said that. I never told her any of those things. She made all that up. You already know she lied about where she lived and stuff. Stinking damn liar. Geez, you can’t trust anyone these days.”

  “Well, that’s what more than one witness is saying. So tell me, did anyone see you down at the beach that night? Anyone who can say you were there alone until 9:30?”

  “It was dark out, what’d ya’ expect? There aren’t any lights on the beach. You know that. Because of the stupid turtles hatching. Who cares about the turtles anyway? I’d kill 'em if I found any.” Blass was getting frustrated.

  Tyler frowned at the cruel comment. “Stick to what happened that night. Answer me. Did anyone see you at the beach that night?”

  “No, no one saw me. Not that I know of. I waited for Lissa until 9:30. Then I went back to the motel. Ask John Patel. He’ll tell you. He saw me.”

  “He saw you, all right. Patel says he saw you go to your motel room at 9 o’clock. With a redhead.”

  “That lying foreigner.” He was getting flustered. “He and everyone else is against me. They planned this.”

  “He’s not a foreigner. He’s an American citizen. He said when he went past your door he heard the two of you in there. Then, when he took his break at 10, you were gone. That’s what he told the police.”

  “He’s lying, I‘m telling you. It was about 9:35. I know because I looked at my watch. I came to the door of my room. Alone. John was at the soda machine, getting a soda. I said hello. He said hello back. That was it. End of story.”

  “John tells a different version. He says it was after midnight when he saw you come back in. He wasn’t sure of the exact time but knows it was after midnight because he went to get a soda from the machine at that time. It’s all very clear to John, because he doesn’t usually stay that late at the motel but worked overtime that night.” Tyler looked disgusted. “So you’re telling me that everyone is lying but you. All of these law-abiding citizens are lying. Is that it?”

  “Yes,” Blass said. “That’s what I’m telling you. I know what happened. Give me the polygraph. They’re framing me, and I can prove it by taking the polygraph.”

  “That won’t work. I told you. You hurt yourself with that one. The police know you can beat it. They won’t allow it in the courtroom. The only good it will do is that it will look great in the press. We need more than a polygraph test to prove you’re innocent. We need some evidence in your favor.”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” Blass said. “You’re my lawyer. It’s your job to get me off.”

/>   “I need more than what we’ve got so far. Now,” Tyler said. “Let me remind you that witnesses said that they spoke with Lissa at 8:30 when she was on the boardwalk on her way to meet you. Two nice little old ladies, Blass. They had a conversation with her. They can recite it verbatim. Lissa told them she was meeting you, going by the false name of Craig Bergen, at 8:30. That she was excited to be seeing you. They asked her if it was the same young man who lived at The Banana Motel. The same guy who goes surfing at the beach every day. She said yes. The witnesses told the police exactly what she was wearing. White blouse, white skirt, gray ballerina shoes. They saw her go down the steps to the beach. Two little old ladies, Blass. Well-respected women of the community. Are you going to call two little old ladies liars?” He was getting frustrated with his client. “How could you not have seen her on the beach that night when two gray haired ladies saw her? She was wearing white. You couldn’t miss her. Help me out here.”

  “Me help you out? What are you talking about? You’re supposed to help me out. I’m telling you I never saw her. Someone else must have gotten to her first. And who are those two lyin’ old bags? I don’t know them. How do they know me?”

  “Don’t ever talk about them like that,” Tyler said. “Listen to yourself. It makes you sound guilty of something. At the very least, you sound crass.”

  “I’m guilty of a lot of things,” Blass said. “But not this. Come on, I didn’t do this. And I don’t care what any of them say. I’m innocent. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  The thought of doing jail time was causing him to imagine what his future would be like inside a prison. He worried he’d be a sitting duck for the prisoners - or worse, he could be executed.

  “Then explain the rest of the evidence to me. One of Lissa’s shoes was found at the beach. Her fingerprints, DNA, and some ice cream were on it.” The lawyer raised his eyebrows. “The same kind of ice cream that they found in your freezer at the motel. There was a positive ID by witnesses that it’s one of the shoes the girl was wearing that night. She showed them off to the older women when she was talking to them. I hate repeating myself, but you’ve got to give me some answers.”