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In His Daddy's Shadow
Chapter 6
At nine o'clock the following morning, Detectives O'Brian and Riley knocked on the door of a pretty little California bungalow located in the Beverlywood section of Los Angeles. Beverlywood is not posh like the Beverly Hills neighborhood where I lived with my folks, but it's a nice area, with great shopping, restaurants, lovely houses, and friendly people.
An attractive woman in her early forties answered the door.
"Yes," she said. "May I help you?"
"Are you Margaret Franklin?" Dave asked.
"Oh God," she shrieked, "What have they done now?"
"What has who done?" Riley feigned innocence.
Dave flashed his badge. "You have twin sons, don't you?" he asked as sweetly as he could."
"Yes," she said. "I haven't had a visit from the police in almost six years. Are they in trouble?"
"No, no," Dave assured her. "We just want to ask them a few questions. We think that they might have some information which would help us find a serial killer."
"Wow, that's unbelievable, but I can't help you. My husband and I haven't heard from them in years."
"I suspected as much," Dave said. "Did your boys grow up in this house?"
"Why, yes they did," Mrs. Franklin answered.
"Do you think, we could examine their rooms?" Dave asked. "Maybe we can find a clue to their whereabouts."
"First of all," the woman said. "They shared a room, so there's only one. Secondly, you cannot come into my house like this and start searching it." Her tone of voice had suddenly turned belligerent."
"I'm afraid we can, Mrs. Franklin. I had hoped you would cooperate, but since you won't, we have a search warrant." He reached in his pocket and came up with the warrant, and his cell phone. He made a quick telephone call, and two uniformed policemen showed up at the front door.
"Do a complete search of the house," Dave instructed the policemen. "Look for anything suspicious that might lead us to the perp. Riley and I will take the twins' old bedroom."
"Are you sure that neither of your boys has been around? We questioned your neighbors," Dave lied, "and they reported seeing one of the twins coming and going. It was probably Donald, because Joe is locked up tight."
"That's not possible," the woman said, with a crack in her voice. "They're lying. I haven't seen either of my sons in years." Dave had successfully frazzled her. She was actually shaking.
"What reason would they have to lie?" Riley asked. She didn't answer. Her demeanor suddenly exhibited defeat, but she had no choice, so she motioned for the detectives to follow her to the twins' bedroom.
"Let me warn you," Riley said, "harboring, aiding, and abetting a felon will earn you and your husband a healthy stretch of time in jail. By the way, where is your husband?"
"At work," she said trying to stifle a sob.
"Where's work?" Dave asked.
"Nordstrom's shoe department. In The Grove."
By the time they reached the bedroom, Mrs. Franklin broke down completely. Now, she was crying uncontrollably. Riley opened the door. Although the room was empty, it was obvious that it had been occupied very recently. The bed was unmade, and articles of clothing were strewn on the floor. The window was open, and it would be easy for anyone to scoot through it, since the house was a one floor bungalow.
Dave immediately called the precinct and requested a forensic team as soon as possible. He also instructed his chief to send a couple of cops to Nordstrom's to arrest Joe, Sr. Reluctantly, Riley cuffed Mrs. Franklin, and told the two cops to book her, while he and Dave waited for forensics.
While waiting, Dave took a look around. There it was right on the dresser. It was a pinky ring which once had a stone. The stone was conspicuously missing. Dave pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and dropped in the ring.
When the forensics team was finished, they sealed every window and door in the house with crime scene tapes.
The next day, they issued a lengthy report. Among the interesting findings, were these. Apparently, Donald had masturbated and semen was all over the bedsheet. The DNA could have come from either twin. There were fingerprints all over the room, and they weren't Donald's. They were Joe's. Dave had alerted Warden Patterson too late, and the twins had already traded places. He could only wonder how they had accomplished the switch. He would have to ask the warden about that.
Two cops arrived at the department store and went immediately to the personnel office.
"Please call Joseph Franklin to your office," they requested, trying to avoid a scene on the selling floor.
"I've been working here for two years," the personnel director said, "and I don't think we have a Joseph Franklin. Perhaps you have the wrong location?"
"Is there any way you can check the employee listing for the entire chain?" one of them asked.
"Sure," she said, and went to her computer. After a minute or two, she reported that a Joseph Franklin Sr. had indeed worked in this store in the shoe department, but he left four years ago. She had no further information. They reported this news back to the precinct.
Riley immediately began a Google search, and located two Joseph Franklin Seniors. One lived in Anaheim, and the other in Los Angeles. The one in Anaheim was seventy-two-years-old, and lived with a woman named Patricia. The one in Los Angeles was forty-six, and lived with someone named Janet. He previously lived at the known Beverlywood address, with a woman named Margaret. Further research indicated that Joseph had divorced Margaret six years ago. Riley figured that this was their man. He got all the information he could from Google, and only gave up when there was no more information to glean.
He showed all his findings to Dave. "It's way too late now," Dave said. "We'll pay Senior a visit tomorrow morning. Riley, I'm ordering you to go home and forget the case this evening. If the only way you can forget Ginny, and the case, is by drowning your sorrows, go tie one on at your friendly neighborhood bar."
"That makes good sense," Riley said. "Wanna join me?"
"No thanks. I made previous plans for this evening." As he said that, he actually started to erect, so he walked quickly away from Riley.
James and I each came once, in our mouths, and then we fell fast asleep. Dave and Vincent made love half through the night. Each came several times, front and rear. They only stopped when Vincent pointed out to Dave that he needed to get to work in the morning.
Indeed, Dave and Riley arrived at Joe Sr.'s house at the crack of dawn. Janet answered the door, and when she saw the detectives' badges, she nearly fainted dead away.
"Please relax," Dave tried to reassure her, "we just need to ask your husband a few questions. He may have some information to help us in a murder investigation. I promise you, we don't suspect him at all."
"He's in the bedroom dressing for work." Her voice was shaking.
"Would you please tell him to come out. We'll make it as quick a visit as possible," Riley tried to reassure Janet.
Joe came flying out of the bedroom. He was almost fully dressed, but he was so white, he looked like an Albino.
"What? What?" he sputtered.
"Calm down," Dave said. "You're not in any trouble. We just want to ask you a couple of questions and we'll get out of here."
Joe relaxed a smidgeon.
"For the record," Riley asked. "What's your full name?"
"Joseph Harold Franklin, Sr."
"Where do you work?"
"I manage the shoe department at Macy's on Santa Monica Blvd."
"How long have you been there?"
"For a little over four years."
"And how long have you lived in this house?"
"For about five years, since Janet and I got married."
"When did you divorce your first wife?"
"About six years ago."
Riley asked all these inane questions, and he knew that Joe was answering them truthfully, so now he asked his zinger. "When did you last see your twin sons?"
Joe seemed totally unphased. "I haven't seen them since I divorced my first wife. They were twenty-two then."
"Don't you want to see them?" This time, Dave asked the question.
"I don't ever want to see them again. Let me explain detectives. I was eighteen when I met Margaret. She was so beautiful, I fell madly in love with her. I ached to make love to her, but she said she wouldn't do that until we were married. One day while we were on a date, she broke out crying. I asked what the matter was, and she admitted that she was pregnant, and she didn't know who the father was.
"The bitch had lied to me about waiting until marriage, and I should have run a country mile, but I was very young and so desperately in love. For sure, I wasn't thinking straight. I offered to marry her. I told her she could register me as the father on the baby's birth certificates. She accepted my offer.
"From the get go the twins were mean and surly. When they were eight years old, they killed my neighbor's cat, just for fun. When they were twelve, they were arrested for shoplifting, and when they were fifteen, they were accused of rape. They beat that rap, but after that, there were many more incidents of theft and rape.
"I tried to discipline them, but Margaret always took their side. She coddled and enabled them. The more I complained, the nicer she was to them, and the nastier she became to me. I couldn't take her or the twins anymore, and I split. The twins were adults by then, and I didn't have to pay child support. I told her not to ask for alimony, because I would run DNA tests, and claim she had deceived me, and tricked me into a shotgun wedding. When I walked out of that house, it was the last time I saw my ex or the twins. I haven't missed them for one second, and I've led a serene life ever since. I've got a good job, a terrific, loving wife, and two fantastic step daughters."
As he said that, he started to cry. He put his arms around Janet, and she hugged him hard. The two detectives believed every word that he had said.
"Thanks for your time," Dave said. He reached in his wallet, and took out his card. He handed it to Joe. "Here's my card. If one of the twins tries to contact you seeking shelter, call me immediately."
"Will do," he said, and he and Janet showed the detectives out.
"Do you think that Joe or Don, whoever is on the loose, would come here to hide out?" Riley asked Dave.
"Maybe, maybe not, but I fear for their safety. I'm going to order police protection for them, at least until we catch the bastard."
Back at the precinct, Dave and Riley had Margaret taken to an interrogation room. "It'll go a lot easier on you if you tell us where your son is hiding," Dave advised her.
"I swear, I don't know," she whimpered. "I didn't even know he had left the house."
"Can you think of any place he might have gone to escape us?'
"No place in Los Angeles, for sure," she said. "I might as well tell you, he has a car. You'll find out anyway. It's registered in my name, and it was missing from the driveway, when you ran me in. I imagine he's in another state by now. You'll never find him. He's too clever for you."
"What's the make and tag number of the car?" Riley asked.
"It's a 2016 Chevy Malibu, but I don't remember the tag number."
"You're wise to cooperate," Dave said.
Riley ran to his computer, and accessed the DMV. He had the tag number in seconds. Dave immediately issued an all-points bulletin, not only in the state of California, but in all neighboring states.
Even though, the murderer had not yet been apprehended, Dave was making progress on the case, and he was feeling good. When he got home that evening, he announced that he was taking us all out to a fine dinner. Then staring at James and me he said, "Curb your hormones. I swear to get us home in plenty of time so you two can have a long love-making session."
James and I turned red, and Vincent asked, "Does that go for us also."
"You better believe it."
True to his promise, Dave took us to Spago in Beverly Hills. Spago is Wolfgang Puck's flagship restaurant. Needless to say, the food was delicious, and we got home with full and satisfied bellies. All four of us ran to our respective bedrooms. I don't know about Vincent and Dave, but James and I jumped into the shower, and began to make love under the refreshing, cascading water.
We were back in bed, and I was fucking James doggie style when I thought I heard a telephone ringing. It was a distance away, and I believed the ring might be coming from Vincent's room. The phone was answered, and a few minutes later, a very naked Dave barged into my room.
"What's wrong?" James and I asked in unison.
"Don or Joe, whichever one it is, tried to break into his father's house. He had no way of knowing, but I placed police protection around the property. The cops tried to apprehend him, but he resisted and pulled a gun. They were forced to take him out. He's at Cedars-Sinai Hospital fighting for his life."
To be continued...