"The CIA is made up of boys whose families sent them to Princeton but wouldn't let them into the family brokerage business."
Lyndon B. Johnson
oooooooooo
"Have you ever gone to a karaoke bar?"
Seaver was looking at Rossi with a casual smile, unable to guess if the older man had ever participated in either singing, or listening to and cheering for friends. They had both just arrived at the home of Sam Crocker's family and were coming out of the SUV they had picked up at the airport upon landing.
"Yes, I have. And you?" he answered with his usual detachment.
"Oh, a couple of times. But I sing out of tune, so, it's not really my scene..."
"What is your scene, then?"
Seaver almost gulped. She now regretted starting this conversation. What answer could she give that did not sound corny or lame to this man?
"Rock climbing," she decided. "I like the outdoors. So, you like singing?"
Rossi was amused by her attempt to return the topic of conversation on him, but he played along:
"I like opera and jazz, but I let professionals perform... I can't sing outside my shower. Plus, karaoke bars are not big on opera."
She had to agree and nodded her assent broadly.
Interviewing the Crocker family was not easy. With one son involved with drug dealers, and the other killed on the front lawn of their home a few months ago, the amount of anxiety and despair Mrs Crocker felt was palpable in the room. However, both parents seemed eager to talk about Sam, and answered openly all the questions the agents had for them.
The information was standard: Sam was single, sociable, an excellent student, had many talents including singing and dancing, and was popular with women. He had had a history of marijuana use, but they both believed he had stopped a few years ago. He drank in moderation, was not aggressive, and had actually more of a relaxed, happy-go-lucky personality; he had no enemies that anyone knew of. He had taken a cab home from the bar that night, at the request of his parents, but, according to the police report, the cab driver had not noticed anything unusual and did not know if it had been followed.
A different portrait was obtained from the friends and family of Yoshio Mizuki. He liked to go to the karaoke bar regularly despite not drinking alcohol, and was a very hard-working Ph.D. student. He was shy and reserved, but his occasional singing got him some attention. He usually went out with two good friends who looked out after him, although he was their designated driver each time. The night he was killed had been similar to many previous ones: Yoshio and his friends had sung that night, they had had some fun talking with some 'fans' afterwards, and he had driven his buddies home at the end of the evening. He had been found dead at his parents' home, still sitting at the wheel of his car. His family was devastated.
Meanwhile, Reid and Morgan obtained information from the families and friends of Ren Nozawa. Ren worked at Princeton University as a teacher's assistant and enjoyed the night life. He was an avid karaoke singer and had many friends and admirers he met regularly at the Sherwood Club. That last night, he had left the bar early with a girl and then had hooked up with other friends at a dancing club, The Roxy, and finished the night there. None of his friends knew if he had left the dance club alone, but they all said he had arrived by himself; they had not seen the girl from the Sherwood Club. Friends from the bar did not know who the girl was, either; he had met with her at the bar and left without introducing her to his friends. His body had been found in his car, in front of his apartment building.
The last victim, John Sears, had no family locally, so Reid and Morgan met with his colleagues at the electronic equipment store. They described a loner who enjoyed electronics and singing. He had no close friends other than his workmates. They had gone to the Sherwood Club with him on previous occasions, but not the night he was killed, so they knew nothing of the circumstances of his last few hours on Earth. The police report said the taxi driver who had taken Sears home had noticed a dark pick-up truck following him most of the way, but not when he had finally dropped off his customer.
Prentiss and Hotch visited the crime scenes for the last two victims with Mitch Sorrell, but did not find out more than they had already deducted from the reports. Shortly after, they went to interview the staff at the Club with Detective Sorrell. Reid and Morgan were first to join them, and Rossi and Seaver arrived in late afternoon. Prentiss related to her colleagues their findings, while Sorrell and Hotch finished talking to the last employee.
"The police reports were mostly complete, but we got more details about John Sears' activities. The other killings happened too long ago, we were not able to retrieve anything new. However, John Sears was seen leaving the Club around 11 pm last Wednesday: one waiter saw him leave with a woman, so we got more information about her. She was Asian, petite, shoulder-length black hair; but he didn't see her face. Interestingly, the owner of the Club remembers Sears coming in late, like 11:30 or so... definitely after 11, which would mean that he had left with the woman and he came back, alone..."
"That sounds a bit like Nozawa's story; he left with a woman, but arrived at the dance club alone," commented Reid.
Rossi and Seaver felt this could be significant as they added: "Our first two victims were always hanging out with girls after their singing."
"It is the way things play out usually, it seems, at this bar," explained Prentiss. "'Groupies' wait for the male performers to be done and hang out with them. Regulars get a real following, too."
"So this maybe more about girls than singing," Morgan suggested.
"It's a definite possibility," answered Prentiss.
Rossi was smiling with a satisfied, knowing grin. "This would make a lot more sense to me, finally. We've seen this before, haven't we?"
"What? Jealousy? Competition for women? Yes, that sounds vaguely familiar as a motive for killing," Seaver replied.
"Sexually motivated crimes usually target the women, though," Reid reminded the others.
"We still don't have enough for a definite profile..." Rossi began.
"We also tried to get more information about the songs, or singing styles of our victims," offered Prentiss. "The owner and the staff could not remember anything specific about the first three victims and they do not keep records of who sang what, when... The owner hosts Karaoke night; he thinks they sang ballads or pop tunes, like most of what's played, here. The last man sung 'Ebb Tide', last week. They remembered because no one ever sings anything that old. But he sang very well and received loud applause."
Morgan was about to comment, but stopped when he saw Hotch and Sorrell approach their group. They were all standing in a hallway leading to the back offices and storage areas, while the staff was mostly busy in the public area and behind the bar, out of earshot.
"The staff doesn't remember more than they have already stated in the police reports, but they do remember that our two youngest victims, the Japanese Americans, were popular with the girls, or 'groupies'," Hotch shared quietly. "They don't think the two older men were as popular."
Sorrell moved toward the large opening to the main area, guiding the team to follow him. He pointed at the bar at the back of the room, to their right: "The girls tend to hang out by the bar, during and after the songs; they are in groups that know each other, most are students in their twenties, and they like to flirt with the singers, giving them a bit of an 'idol' status. Especially the young and cute guys..."
"How young?" asked Morgan.
"Twenties, early thirties..." Sorrell replied.
"Our men are older, but were seen with these groups of girls, at the bar." Hotch turned to Sorrell: "Did you run the credit card numbers on the four nights of the killings, to see who was present on all four Wednesdays?"
"Yes, we did," Sorrell answered. "We found over forty card owners were present at least three of the four nights, and thirty one were present at all four. We ran a check for police records and long gun registration, and ended up with nothing for either one."
"He paid cash..." Rossi stated the obvious explanation. "I'm sure our unsub has some sort of previous record. This can't be his first foray into crime."
"Is our unsub observing this 'groupies' ritual, or taking part in it?" wondered Reid, out loud.
They walked in and noticed the dusty atmosphere, the worn out carpet and furniture, the musty smell. The staff had just finished cleaning the place and some customers were already starting to arrive. Everyone was trying to imagine the scene, at night, with the crowd filling the place and young people gathering in the open area in front of the bar. There was a fair amount of space there, while series of small round tables occupied the center of the room, and at the other end, the front stage with lights, speakers, and equipment was on a platform raised about a foot from the ground level. The lighting was low, and there were no visible windows. Rock music was playing in the background.
They returned to the hallway behind the walls as they followed Hotch who was dialling for Garcia on his cell phone.
"Garcia, can you collect all the credit card numbers that were run at the Sherwood Club on the four nights of the killings and find which ones belong to women in their late twenties or thirties?"
"You think we're dealing with a female unsub?" inquired Seaver, while Hotch was listening to Garcia's answer. He thanked Garcia before hanging up and answering the young woman.
"It's possible, but not likely," he told her. "Our unsub uses a long gun and drives a dark pick-up truck... I think it's more likely that some of the women have met our unsub, and we need to interview them as witnesses."
"How long before we get that list?" Sorrell inquired.
"Garcia is quick, but she'll need at least an hour. That gives us time to take a break to eat. Then Dave and I will start looking at that list. The rest of the team should come back here, tonight. You should get a feel for the place, and figure out how we're going to blend in tomorrow night. So you should probably dress more casually and pair up, and hopefully, not be too conspicuous..."
"You want back-up tonight and tomorrow night?" the Detective asked.
"I don't think so, not tonight. Tomorrow night, probably, especially patrol cars... I don't know, yet, we need to figure it out."
"I have an idea for tomorrow night, and we would need help from your men, I think," intervened Morgan.
"What do you have in mind?" Rossi turned to him.
"We could use an undercover cop who fits the victimology and have him sing at karaoke tomorrow night. He could draw out our unsub, we would watch and cover him. We could wire him, too." Morgan suggested.
"Well, we definitely don't want any potential victim allowed to sing tomorrow night, at least, not civilian ones. I was about to talk to the owner about that; he's the DJ on karaoke night." Hotch announced. "But it's a good idea to try to lure the unsub with one of your men. Do you think you can find a volunteer for tomorrow night?" he asked Sorrell.
Sorrell was a bit hesitant. "I wish we had more time, but yes, I'll certainly give it a try."
"We need someone who can sing well and matches our victims' appeal: thirties to early forties, dark hair, Asian or Caucasian, single, at least for tomorrow night..." Morgan described the requirements to the detective.
Sorrell took off on his quest for a singing-dark-haired policeman, while the team went to eat dinner, freshen up, and change before returning to the Club.