Oceanside Chronicles: Season 6, Episode 3

Oct. 17, 2016
Two separate serial murder investigations are going on… and the clowns are back. Welcome to pre-Halloween.

All characters and places in this series are fictional. Any resemblance they bear to actual people or places is purely coincidental.

- - - - - - - - - -

Detective Lieutenant Dick Coleman almost always hated it when the phone rang while he was reviewing case notes. He especially hated it when the phone rang before eight in the morning when he hadn't even finished his first cup of coffee yet. To say he was grumpy when he reached for the phone would be an understatement.

"Homicide, Detective Coleman," he said. The aggravation in his voice was obvious.

"Griggs," said the voice on the other end. "Am I interrupting something? Or do you always sound so happy this time of the morning?"

That was enough to make Coleman chuckle. Lieutenant Griggs was an agent with the Coast Guard's Criminal Investigative Service; the less well known Coast Guard equivalent of the Navy's same service - NCIS. "As a matter of fact," replied Coleman, his mood lightening, "I do always sound about this happy this early... especially when I'm still on my first cup of fuel."

"Well, glad I could help," said Griggs. "You need an earlier start if you're going to need coffee to be human."

"That's the truth," said Coleman. "What can I do for you this morning, Lieutenant?"

"I was just calling to give you an update on the Different Flavors case," replied Griggs. Coleman was reaching for a pen to take notes when Griggs continued. "Don't worry about taking notes. I'll email you all the information I'm getting ready to share."

"Fair enough," said Coleman, pulling his hand back. Leaning back in his chair he got comfortable and said, "Shoot."

"Alright," started Griggs. "First off, family members from several of the murder victims who have washed up on the east coast have identified clothing items from the boat. We've confirmed that at least four of them were on or connected to Different Flavors in some way."

"Second, the dental records came back on the dismembered remains that were found aboard. They confirm that the owner and his best friend are indeed the two victims found."

"Third, the dingy from Different Flavors still hasn't been found. We've put out notifications to be on the lookout for all the marinas in Maryland, Delaware and New Jersey. There's a chance it could have been taken farther north, but it's a small chance and we don't see the need to spend time looking where there's so small an opportunity to find it."

Griggs paused just long enough for Coleman to ask, "Anything else?"

"Nothing factual. Just an opinion question..." said Griggs. "What're your thoughts on who the killer or killers were for the people we've recovered? The bodies that have washed up or were found floating? I would have thought it was the owner of Different Flavors, but given that he was found, obviously as a victim himself, I can't help wondering if whoever took the dingy is the actual killer of all of them and Different Flavors was somehow an unintended host."

Coleman thought that over for a few moments before offering an outlook. "That could be. But I suppose, although it would seem somehow ironic, the owner and his friend on Different Flavors could have been the serial killers... and they finally came across someone who was more predator than prey."

"In a big way," said Griggs. "It's one thing to defend yourself. It's entirely different to not only defend yourself but then dismember your attackers and cook 'me up for a meal."

"You got that right," said Coleman. "That aside, it's just about the only other possibility." He paused before continuing. "So what's your game plan?"

"Either way, the investigation continues as is. We've got forensics teams, psychological profilers and more continuing to work Different Flavors and the backgrounds of its owner and his friend. One interesting fact has come out that we haven't shared with the family yet."

"Yeah?" Asked Coleman. "What's that?"

"The bed in the main stateroom had obviously been slept in... a lot and by more than one person. No other bed in any other stateroom was even mussed. Our forensics techs have found DNA from at least ten people. We're waiting on results for comparisons to the bodies we've recovered, but... " he paused, as if he didn't want to finish."

"But?" prompted Coleman.

With a big sigh, Griggs finished. "But it looks like the owner and his friend weren't just friends." His implication was obvious and Coleman thought about it for a minute.

"In today's day and age, does that matter? I mean, so what?"

"Both men had wives and families. Interviews with them revealed not even a hint of the two men being anything more than friends... plutonic life long friends." He sighed again. "This evidence makes it look like they might have been lovers too."

Coleman let that sit for a minute before he spoke. "Well, let me know what else you find. For now we're still checking the marinas to see if anyone remembers the Different Flavors being docked here or either of the men on board."

"Let me know if you find anything out," said Griggs. "Thanks for your efforts."

"Will do," said Coleman and both men hung up.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Detective Lieutenant Andrea "Andi" DeSalis and her partner, Detective Sergeant Jacob "Mac" MacGreger, were huddled in the small room the Chief had ordered set aside. A formal task force hadn't been set up yet but a space had been made and six desks were provided. Andi had already figured out what such a Task Force structure would be and had even gone so far as to select potential officers from Oceanside PD to fill spots if needed. She also had prepped the requisite letters to ask for officers from the surrounding county and the state police. Mac had suggested including a spot for an officer from the Department of Defense police. That way a federal representative would be included to share information as necessary with the branches of service and, indirectly, the Coast Guard.

"Whoever it is knows what they're doing as far as evidence is concerned," said Mac. "I'm still in disbelief that we haven't found a single piece of physical evidence that would tie back to a single person."

"Yeah," said Andi. "Fibers and chemicals... but nothing that would hold DNA at all." Mac didn't have anything to say to that. He just nodded and then shrugged.

"At least we've started to get a list of potential suspects," said Andi. "Let's whittle it down to the best three candidates and then we can share it with patrol in roll call."

"Is that a good idea?" asked Mac. "Do we want to let suspects know we're watching them or looking for them?"

"Can't hurt," replied Andi. "Who knows? Maybe, if it's one of them, it'll stop them from kidnapping any other kids."

"Maybe," said Mac... but he didn't sound confident or hopeful in the statement.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Max just shook his head. He'd never understand this latest craze... stupid to his way of thinking. He and Sean - as Unit 1095 - were on yet another call for report of a 'creepy clown' sighting. In this case, the call specified another clown but this one was reported to be carrying a machete. If it was a real weapon, this clown had taken things to the next level. If it was fake, this clown may not realize just how stupid his actions were. Since people couldn't readily tell the difference, and since lethal force would be justified in defense against an attack by anyone with a machete, much less a 'creepy clown,' this clown may well end up shot by a citizen if he was dumb enough to threaten the wrong one.

Thanks to this one, Max and Sean were traveling slowly down 5th Street, windows open, ears listening hard, and eyes sweeping the yards and sidewalks along the way, seeking the clown. As Max was looking in the yards between two houses on his left, Sean said, "There he is." When Max looked over he saw Sean pointing farther down the street where the clown had apparently just stepped out from behind some bushes. Sure enough, even from several houses away, they could easily see the machete in his hand.

As they pulled up, Max was careful not to get too close. On the one hand, the clown could only do so much damage to them if they stayed in the cruiser with it in gear. If he started swinging the machete Max could simply tromp on the gas. On the other hand, they had to get out and deal with the guy eventually, so why not park that much farther away and address him from a distance? With that thought, Max had an even better idea.

He picked up the microphone attached to the PA system, keyed it as he slowed and said, “Sir! You, sir, in the clown outfit, with the machete.” He watched as the clown looked right at him. Max guessed they were about twenty yards apart… about sixty feet… but that was plenty close enough to see the guy’s eyes. The face was hard to read because of the makeup, but the eyes were for more expressive. With the clown looking right at him, Max continued, “Put down the machete. We need to speak with you a few minutes.”

Max watched as the clown looked down at the machete in his hands, lifting it only slightly so the sunlight glinted along the blade. Then he looked back up at Max – and continued to hold the machete. “Put the machete down, sir,” said Max through the PA system again. “Real or not, put it on the ground and back away from it.”

Once more the clown lifted it just slightly, looked at it, lowered it and then looked back at Max. This time he shrugged. Max didn’t know what that shrug was supposed to mean, but he knew it wasn’t a good thing. Switching microphones he called dispatch. “Unit 1095, dispatch.”

“Go ahead, 1095.”

“Hold us out in the nineteen hundred block of 5th Street. We have one clown, armed with a machete, refusing to drop it. Start another car please.”

“10-4, 1095,” replied dispatch. “Unit 1096 start that way.”

“Unit 1096, copy that,” came Kyle’s voice through the radio. That meant Mike was driving.

“You ready?” Max asked Sean.

“There is no ‘ready’,” quipped Sean back. Max knew that meant his partner was good to go. Before Max had fully stopped the cruiser though, Sean said, “I’m going to go with my TASER. You keep him in your sites.”

“Roger that,” replied Max. He admired his partner’s calm and courage. TASER against a clown with a machete? That’s not even the same as taking a knife to a gun fight. But that’s why Max would have lethal force in his hand. As he put the cruiser in park, with the nose of it pointed at the clown, roughly fifteen yards away, Max figured they were more than double the infamous twenty-one foot distance so often referenced in edged weapons classes. The problem was that it was too great a distance for a TASER.

Max stayed behind his cruiser door and drew his handgun. With it in a firm two-hand supported grip, he looked over the sites at the clown’s midsection. Max was a good shooter and he wasn’t having to dodge bullets. If the clown forced him to shoot, Max was sure his shots would score. “Put down the machete!” Max commanded looking at the clown over his gun. The clown didn’t do so. He just stood there… staring.

“Moving up,” said Sean from the other side of the cruiser. Max didn’t like it, but if they were going to attempt to NOT shoot this guy, it was necessary. He glanced over at Sean and saw that Sean had his TASER out and turned on; the red dot was just barely visible on the clown’s blue shirt. Max didn’t like the fact that the clown could easily distinguish between the gun Max was holding and the TASER Sean was holding. Max felt like that made Sean a more vulnerable target. As they slowly took steps forward, Max could hear sirens approaching and knew that Mike and Kyle were getting close.

When they were just about seven yards away, Max and Sean stopped almost in perfect unison. Still looking over the barrel of his leveled handgun, Max said, “One last time, sir. We don’t want to have to shoot you. Drop the machete.” Even as he finished speaking, Mike and Kyle’s cruiser came screaming around the corner. Mike was notorious for his driving and this was the perfect example of why.

- - - - - - - - - - -

As Mike steered the cruiser around the corner, far faster than he should have, he saw the scene in front of him and thought, “You just can’t make this shit up.” He’d have never believed it if he hadn’t seen it. A clown… about six feet tall with a white head, red hair and a big red nose above a mouth surrounded by bright green makeup, dressed all in yellow and orange and holding a damned machete. There was Max with his gun up and level and Sean with… a TASER? What the hell was he thinking? A TASER? A machete was a lethal threat and Mike didn’t have a whole lot of compassion for people who walked around presenting a lethal threat. His first reaction was, “Stop or I’ll shoot,” and he didn’t think he’d be real slow on the trigger. In this case, he had a better thought. His partner, Kyle, caught on just as Mike enacted the plan and even as big and brave as he was, it nearly caused Kyle to need a new pair of underwear.

Not taking his foot off the gas, Mike steered the cruiser up and over the curb, the vehicle bouncing hard, and then leveling as Mike accelerated across the short span of grass between the curb and where the clown was standing facing Max. At first Kyle thought Mike was just going to run the clown over, but then he reevaluated and realized he'd be playing a role in this effort. As the front bumper passed by the clown, close enough that the breeze moved the clown's pants, Kyle pushed open his door. He had timed it almost perfectly. The door reached full extension just as it impacted the clown. Because of the way everything was lined up, the door first hit the clown's arm - the one that was holding the machete - and then shoved that armed into the clown and impacted the clown as a whole.

Kyle didn't try to hold the door open. He let it bounce off the clown and shut. He was aware of the clown falling and vaguely registered an "umph" sound escaping the clown after the door hit him. As soon as the door had slammed shut, Mike's foot was on the brakes to stop the cruiser. The two big men were out of the car as quick as it came to a stop and Mike could put it into park. Kyle was already pulling his handcuffs and was reaching down to put them on the clown as Mike came around the back of the cruiser. The machete was on the ground a couple feet away so Mike took his hand off his handgun. He'd been ready to draw and engage the subject if necessary... if the clown was still holding the machete. What so many people didn't realize was that "down" didn't equal "no threat," so Mike was prepared to act as necessary if the clown had still presented a potentially lethal threat.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Max and Sean watched in disbelief as Mike steered the cruiser so close to the clown and then Kyle popped his door open, impacting the clown and sending him tumbling. The machete came out of the clowns hand and landed several feet away. Max heard the distinctive sound of metal on metal as the car door hand hit the machete. Any doubt about whether or not it was a real weapon was dismissed in Max's mind. He holstered

his handgun and could see Sean putting away his TASER. Idly Max wondered about how this use of force report would get written up, but then he realized that would be Mike's problem... and Mike had more years of experience. If Mike was confident in his action, then Max shouldn't worry about it. As he considered it briefly, from the objective standpoint, it was probably better than Max having had to shoot the clown. Lethal force was lethal force whether it was enacted with a gun or a cruiser. One thing was sure: this was going to go down as one of the war stories that got circulated around the PD with a smile; one of those stories that started out with, "You won't believe what this guy did..."

When Eddie arrived on the scene, as much as he was a friend of these officers, his first responsibility was as Sergeant Eddie Presser. One of is officers had used lethal force. As different and surprising as the use of force might have been, it was still lethal force. Kyle had just finished searching the clown and the man had been sat up. The red nose and red hair had been removed. Without them he looked more like a tired middle-aged man than anything else. With the clown outfit on, he looked kinda goofy and more than a little bit scary in a weird kind of way.

Eddie stopped and looked around before he said anything. Then he stepped over to Mike and said, "Run me through it." Mike knew what Eddie wanted; the whys and wherefores of having hit the clown with a car. The dent in the passenger door of the cruiser was obvious. Eddie had heard the radio traffic so he didn't need to know anything before Mike arriving on the scene. Mike gave him a quick run down of what he saw once he came around the corner and his decision making process that led to the cruiser just missing the clown and Kyle hitting him with the door. Eddie's verbal response was simple. "Okay. Good job." The look on his face displayed how entertained he was by Mike's response. Mike walked away and Eddie looked over at the clown where Kyle was standing. "Kyle!" Eddie called and waved the man over.

Kyle waited a minute before moving. He waited until Mike was close enough that, should clown boy decide to try to get up and run, Mike could... hinder him. Stepping smartly over to the Sergeant, Kyle ran through the same events as Mike did. He clearly articulated why he had chosen to open the door and use it as a battering ram to hit the clown. Eddie nodded as the big man talked and silently agreed that it was a good choice.

After talking to Mike and Kyle, Eddie also spoke to Max and Sean. Their unofficial statements completely meshed and backed up those of Mike and Kyle. Trying to think like an internal affairs investigator, Eddie considered the scene, the timing and the hoops his officers would have to jump through as they were interviewed by IA. And, for sure and certain, there'd ben an IA investigation when the use of force report was filed.

"Officer hits clown with cruiser," would garner quite a bit of attention. Eddie imagined the look on the Chief's face when he read the report and follow-on investigation. It was funny to think about. The only challenge Eddie could see was that the dent in the door of the cruiser would probably cost a chunk to repair. He said as much to Kyle while everyone waited for an ambulance. The clown didn't claim any injury. In fact, he wasn't talking at all. But, after hitting him with a cruiser, everyone agreed it was best to get him to the hospital to have him checked over.

As they were waiting, Mike asked Max to keep an eye on "clown boy" as they had taken to calling him. Max agreed and Mike stepped away to talk to Kyle. Eddie wondered what was going on but didn't say anything or intervene. He watched as Mike got his evidence camera out and took three pictures of the damaged car door. He took the pictures from different angles so the damage was clearly displayed. Then he put away the camera and got out two screwdrivers.

As the other officers watched, Kyle opened the cruiser door, with the window all the way up, and carefully took off the inner panel. In doing so, he had access to the inside face of the metal outer shell of the cruiser door. With it thus exposed, he turned to Mike and asked for a trauma plate. Mike wen to the trunk and pulled one of the trauma plates out of his response vest. He took it back and handed it over to Kyle.

Eddie changed the position he was watching from so he could see what Kyle was doing. As he watched, Kyle carefully placed the trauma plate into the door so that the curved face was up against the damaged door material. He took a few seconds to move it around until he was happy with the placement. Then, while holding it in place with his left hand, he struck it with the heel of his right palm. There was a resounding thunk and the whole door moved, but nothing else changed. "Mike," he said, "hold the door in place." Mike stepped over and stood against the edge of the door so that it couldn't move when Kyle struck it. Kyle repeated his actions and the dent in the door popped out. It returned almost perfectly to its original shape. Kyle adjusted the trauma plate and struck it again, a bit softer. He repeated the process several times and the door looked almost 100%. He looked over at Eddie, got an approving nod, and handed the trauma plate back to Mike. The ambulance showed up about the same time as the trunk lid was being closed.

Eddie had a question he had to ask Mike, although he thought he knew the answer. Stepping over he asked the big man, "Why did you take pictures of the damage before fixing the door? It looks undamaged now."

"Because without the pictures we could be accused of tampering with evidence in a use of force investigation," replied Mike. "I don't mind the investigation. I can justify my actions as can Kyle. I won't have my career tanked because someone makes an

accusation of impropriety when there is none. We preserved evidence via photos and we also saved the agency money by fixing the door ourselves. No one can be critical."

Eddie nodded. "Good thinking and good job."

After clown boy was loaded up into the ambulance, a quick conversation was had about who would go to the hospital and the possibilities for handling charges. Max and Sean ended up going to the hospital and after the clown had been examined by a doctor, he was ready for release. His injuries were listed as "contusions and a sprained knee." Max thought for another few minutes and had the clown moved into the hospital's secure holding cell for psychiatric patients. Then he went and filled out the emergency commitment paperwork so that the clown would be held under psychiatric evaluation for 72 hours. The support for this evaluation was his apparent suicidal tendencies. Max felt that was more easily justified than arresting the clown for being a public nuisance; and since the clown hadn't threatened anyone - that any officer had witnessed - it would be difficult to make any other case.

Max and Sean left the hospital and wondered what other weirdness the Halloween season would hold.

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