Chapter 20: Mr. Buck
"It's not him," Theodore said, shaking his head firmly.
"But..."
"They are very much in love," Theodore explained in a low voice, nodding toward the warm glow emanating from the house. "The killer is sexually impotent. This is a major blow to his male ego, and he feels inferior because of it. He urgently needs to gain confidence from his victims as a supplement to his wounded masculinity."
"A killer wouldn't buy flowers for his wife after work and smile so happily."
"If the killer were married, he and his wife would be experiencing a major marital crisis, not like this," he said, gesturing at the scene of domestic contentment before them.
Bernie smacked his lips, reluctant to abandon the lead just yet.
Theodore shook his head and urged, "Let's go. We'll check the next house."
......
The sky gradually darkened, and lights began dotting the residential community, each window revealing happy scenes of families gathering for dinner. In contrast, the commercial district grew dark and deserted as shops closed one after another.
This shift brought a new challenge to Theodore and their investigation.
They had moved quickly, covering most of the South District in half a day, checking over 170 pharmacies and sifting through nearly a thousand names. However, they were still falling behind the clock.
One-fifth of the South District communities remained unchecked, and they hadn't even started on the North District. It was already past seven o'clock.
The hustle and bustle of Rose Street was about to begin. The prostitutes would soon start their evening business, and somewhere out there, the killer was preparing to select his next target.
They still had found nothing.
Bernie felt as if there was an alarm clock counting down above his head, each passing minute making him more irritable.
This pharmacy was just about to close when they arrived. After flashing their badges, the clerk grumbled with obvious displeasure, reluctantly reopened the door, and slowly flipped through the customer register.
"Hurry up!" Bernie urged impatiently.
The clerk's lips moved in what appeared to be silent curses before he pulled out a half-worn register and dropped it onto the counter with a thud.
Bernie pointed a warning finger at the clerk and bent his head to scan the entries.
Theodore leaned in beside him, thinking that if this place yielded nothing either, he would have to resort to his more outrageous "wild guess" theory, a psychological profile based on the killer's apparent preference for blonde victims, possibly tied to maternal influence and religious trauma.
As Theodore mulled over this theory, his eye suddenly caught on a name, and he reached out to stop Bernie's page-turning.
Buck?
The name struck him. Buck meant "male deer", in hunting culture, a symbol of male virility and fertility. An interesting choice for someone buying contraceptives.
Bernie looked up at Theodore expectantly.
Theodore's lips barely moved as he asked the clerk, who was hovering nearby and glancing around nervously, "When did this Mr. Buck come in to buy?"
The clerk pulled back his wandering gaze and replied coldly, "Right before you showed up."
"How long before?"
The clerk showed his impatience but answered honestly due to the presence of the police badge, "About ten minutes. I had just started my closing routine when he came in."
While they spoke, Bernie had already flipped to the relevant date entries and pointed them out to Theodore with growing excitement.
May 20th, May 26th, May 27th, and today.
Bernie flipped through earlier pages and discovered that this Mr. Buck was clearly a regular customer, consistently purchasing Trojan brand condoms.
"Do you remember what he looked like?" Bernie asked the clerk, pointing at Mr. Buck's name in the register.
The clerk was reluctant to cooperate, but his resistance crumbled under Bernie's intimidating stare.
The clerk's description painted a picture that increasingly matched their killer profile. The two detectives immediately decided to pay Mr. Buck a visit.
Due to the jurisdictional dispute raised by Cahill, they were unable to request backup, which made them proceed with extra caution. They drove to Mr. Buck's address, parked without killing the engine, and checked their service weapons.
After confirming their readiness, both men positioned their police badges prominently on their jackets and approached the front door, Bernie taking point while Theodore covered the side angle.
A girl about ten years old answered their knock, peering out curiously and scanning both men. Her gaze lingered on their police badges for a moment before she suddenly turned and ran inside, her footsteps thumping loudly as she shouted at the top of her lungs:
"Dad! The police are here! Dad! The police are here! Dad..."
Bernie's hand, which had been resting on his gun holster, instinctively moved away when he saw the child.
When Mr. Buck appeared at the door asking what they wanted, Bernie found himself at a loss for words.
Mr. Buck stood with a child clinging to each side of him, both around ten years old. Several small heads peeked out from behind his legs, regarding the officers with open curiosity. A toddler even emerged from between his legs, sitting in a toy car, sucking on a pacifier while babbling incomprehensibly at the visitors.
By rough count, Mr. Buck appeared to have nine children.
"Dad, the police are here!"
"Dad, it's the police!"
"Dad, why aren't you a police officer?"
"Dad, I want to be one too!"
"Gun! Gun!"
"Do you have a gun? Can I see it?"
"Are you here to catch bad guys?"
"Mommy says Daddy is a bad guy, hurry up and take him away."
"No, Mommy says you're the bad guy! Take my brother away, they're all bad guys."
"You're lying! Wah wah wah Mommy"
The children's voices created a cacophony of questions that quickly devolved into chaos, their innocent chatter drowning out any attempt at adult conversation.
They answered their own questions and, without any apparent provocation, a five or six-year-old boy was suddenly in tears after being teased by his siblings.
Bernie watched with a strained smile as Mr. Buck gently separated the squabbling children and comforted the crying boy.
"We checked the pharmacy records where you shop regularly," Bernie finally managed. "Why did you purchase Trojan condoms on May 20th, May 26th, May 27th, and today?"
The little boy who had been crying still had tears clinging to his eyelashes. Nestled in Mr. Buck's arms and still sniffling, he asked quietly, "Dad, are you sick?"
Embarrassment flickered across Mr. Buck's face. He replied gently, "Dad's not sick, sweetheart. Dad went to buy medicine for Mommy. Now go find Mommy, Dad needs to talk with these guests."
The crowd of children dispersed, their chatter and laughter echoing as they scattered throughout the house.
Bernie and Theodore exchanged knowing glances, suddenly understanding exactly why this man was called Mr. Buck.
"Mr. Buck, why specifically those dates?" Theodore asked, stopping Bernie, who was about to conclude the interview.
Mr. Buck looked embarrassed as he scratched his head and gestured for them to come inside.
Theodore shook his head and declined; they didn't have time for lengthy conversations.
Mr. Buck glanced back toward the house, where the sounds of children playing and arguing drifted down from upstairs. "Because those were the days I happened to be home."
"My wife's health isn't very good," he explained, his voice taking on a concerned tone. "Ever since we got married, she's been having children continuously."
"I don't dare let her have any more..."
"Why were you only home on those specific days?" Theodore interrupted, cutting through the man's emotional explanation.
Mr. Buck scratched his head again. "I'm an offensive coordinator for a football team. Last year, we nearly won the championship, so the school board allocated funds to prepare for this year's run. With the semester ending soon, I've been traveling constantly, scouting players at various schools."
Theodore nodded toward the house. "Could you get me one of those photos to look at?"
Mr. Buck looked puzzled but went inside and returned with a framed photograph.
It was prominently displayed in the living room, carefully matted and framed. The photo showed many people arranged in rows, the front three filled with football players in full gear, the back two with coaching staff.
Everyone was giving thumbs up to the camera, their faces bright with victory smiles.
Mr. Buck's voice filled with pride as he explained, "This is from ten years ago when we won our first championship. I had just joined as an offensive coach."
Football culture thrived in Texas, with competitive teams at every level. Schools invested heavily in their programs, and the community atmosphere was electric on game days.
Fans regularly left work early or called in sick to attend important games, and many even traveled with the team during championship runs.
Football was considered the ultimate "masculine" sport and was especially popular in oil-boom cities like Felton. The city government even maintained a dedicated department to organize football competitions at various levels throughout the community.
Theodore handed the frame back to Mr. Buck, his expression grave. "Mr. Buck, you're going to need to come back to the police station with us."