To Die For

by C. M. Sutter

  I’ll be screwed a hundred different ways if I don’t find that badge before the police do.

  He separated the slats on the blinds that faced the parking lot and peeked out. The pole lights illuminated the area below him just enough that he could pick out his own car and the patrol unit parked a few spaces away.

  There’s no way I can get past them unseen.

  He tiptoed to the nightstand alongside the bed and lifted his phone—5:14 a.m. He needed to drop off the kids at school at eight thirty then head immediately to the police station. The only chance he had to find his badge was to get to the pharmacy and search the area behind the building before anyone arrived for the opening shift. He also had to return to the hotel before the kids woke up. Paul had to try—there was no other choice. If the police found his badge, he’d definitely look like he’d had a hand in the burglary.

  The only thing I can do is sneak out and call an independent driver to take me to the pharmacy. He’ll have to drop me off at the nearest intersection, then I’ll call a different driver to take me back to the hotel.

  He hoped the kids would sleep through his absence, and with Kohl the oldest and somewhat responsible at nine years old, Paul left a note saying he’d be right back and to stay inside until he returned. With any luck, the kids would remain sleeping and never know he was gone.

  After closing the door behind him as quietly as possible, Paul made it to the lower-level back door after calling for an immediate pickup at the rear of the Liberty Lodge on South Cicero. The app showed a ten-minute wait, and he could deal with that. He based his decision to leave on pure hope that the person who’d masterminded the burglary actually did leave his badge behind like he said he would. If not, Paul was taking quite a risk for nothing. If he was caught, he had no idea what to say. He would cross that bridge only if he had to.

  Paul stood in the shadows against the building and waited. The distance between the hotel and the pharmacy was forty minutes, but at the early hour, there wouldn’t be any traffic to deal with. Moments later, headlights coming his way caught his attention. Paul stepped out into the parking lot and flagged down the driver.

  “Going to West Thirty-First Street?”

  “Yep, that’s me, and the quicker we get there, the better.”

  “You got it, pal. Climb in.”

  Paul stared at his phone and counted down the minutes as the driver headed northwest. The sun had just cleared the horizon, which would make his search for the badge easier—he wasn’t one to carry a flashlight with him.

  At ten after six, the driver pulled into a gas station lot only a block from the pharmacy.

  “This is where you want to be dropped off?”

  “Yes, a colleague of mine is picking me up here.” Paul climbed out and looked back before closing the door. “Thanks. I appreciate you getting here as quickly as possible.” He handed the driver a ten-dollar tip and closed the door, then he waited until the car drove away to continue the last block to the pharmacy.

  He would have a solid hour to search if necessary, but Paul intended to get it done fast and efficiently. He’d scan the rear lot first since the badge would easily stand out if it were lying on the pavement. After that, he’d comb through the brush at the edge of the lot. Paul prayed for a good outcome. He hoped to find the badge and be on his way, or else the burglars had lied and taken it with them. He’d accept either scenario, but having the police find the badge wasn’t an option.

  A brisk chill was in the air, and Paul walked at a quickened pace with involuntarily hunched shoulders. He hadn’t dressed for spending an hour outside. Keeping his hands tucked deep in his pockets for as long as he could, he reached the back parking lot and peeked around the corner to make sure nobody was there before he continued on. With the coast clear, he quickly checked the paved area and began the more tedious search of the weeds and brush that lined the entire parking lot. He checked the time as he began—6:20. Paul set the alarm on his phone to buzz at seven o’clock. That was when he planned to reserve a driver for a 7:20 pickup at the same gas station as before. He couldn’t stay one minute later than that, and with any luck, he’d find the badge quickly and be on his way.

  Spreading foot-tall weeds with his hands, he cleared the left side of the lot and continued on to the back, which spanned the length of the parking lot.

  Come on already. Where are you?

  Near panic had set in when he pushed back his sleeve and saw that it was 6:55. He hadn’t found the badge yet and still had to search the bushes on the right edge of the lot. If he didn’t find it there, he would have to leave without knowing if he’d missed it or if it hadn’t been left behind at all. Paul was tearing the bushes apart frantically when something caught his eye. His heart pounded with excitement when he realized it was the lanyard hanging from a twig.

  Yes! Thank you, God!

  With the badge tucked in his pocket, he tapped the app and arranged a pickup in ten minutes. Paul raised his collar, buttoned his coat, and headed in the direction of the gas station.

  When the driver dropped him off at the hotel’s rear entrance, his watch read 7:50. Paul slipped his keycard into the slot and made a quick stop at the Continental breakfast, grabbed a half dozen sweet rolls, and placed them, three orange juices, and a cup of coffee on a tray then took it to his room. They not only made a good prop, but he needed the calming brew to settle his nerves, and the kids needed a bite to eat. He opened the door just as Kohl—still in a sleep-induced state—stumbled into the bathroom.

  “Morning, Dad.”

  “Hey, buddy. I brought up some sweet rolls for you kids.” Paul set the tray on the table, scooped up the note he had written earlier, and jammed it into his pocket. “Go ahead and use the bathroom while I wake up these two sleepyheads.”

  Taking in a deep, relieved sigh, Paul had pulled off his first deed of the day. Now to convince the detectives at the nine o’clock meeting that he didn’t know anything about Eileen’s death. If he revealed the truth, his children’s lives would be in jeopardy.

  Chapter 12

  Lutz called out to me as I passed his door on my way to the bull pen.

  “Jesse, hold up.”

  I turned and entered his office. The smell of fresh coffee made me hope whatever he was about to say would be short. I needed another cup.

  “Grab a chair. I have an update.”

  I did as I was told, leaned back, and crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s up, Boss?”

  Lutz rubbed his forehead then placed his steaming cup of coffee on a folded napkin. “Tillson just checked in.”

  “Good. Is Harper behaving?”

  “The car was in the lot all night, and now they’re following him to the kids’ school as we speak. He should be heading this way once the kids have been dropped off. Do you have a plan of attack?”

  “Well, sure. It’s as easy as asking why he lied to us, who called him just as he walked out, and where he went between leaving the pharmacy and arriving at his house. Even though CMS wants us to show a warrant before they’ll release the time Paul clocked out yesterday, he doesn’t need to know that. According to his coworkers, it was within five minutes of Tillson’s call.”

  “And what time was that again?”

  “Nine minutes after twelve.”

  Lutz nodded. “I’ll probably take a listen from the observation room. It’ll be interesting to hear what kind of tale he spins, and it damn well better be a good one.”

  I pushed back my chair and stood. “Guess we’ll have to get on the roll call and updates a little early, then. Frank and I have to gather our notes and be ready when Harper arrives at nine o’clock. I also want to re-interview the twin sister, Dorrie.”

  “I’ll put Henry and Shawn on that. Let them know what you want asked.” Lutz blew over his coffee and took a sip. “Tell the boys roll call is in ten minutes.”

  “Will do.”

  That gave me just enough time to make a quick stop in the cafeteria and grab a cup of co
ffee. Henry normally took on the role of coffee master, but by the time our twelve-cup pot was full, we would already be at our morning meeting.

  I walked to my desk with a fresh cup and told the crew that the morning updates were taking place in five. Everyone rushed for the pot, but with only four cups brewed so far, Tony and Henry scored the first cups. As Frank grumbled, he, Kip, and Shawn headed for the cafeteria instead.

  Five minutes later and as everyone was seated in their folding chairs, Lutz ran through the roll call then began the morning updates.

  “I want four officers back at the Harper house this morning to walk the alley and check the dumpsters for anything that could be a clue. Blood drops, a missing knife, a gun, or even a plastic bag the gun may have been shot from. There’s a good chance the assailant had blood transfer on his clothing and may have ditched it too. Pick up cigarette butts, chewed gum—you get the idea. Jesse and Frank are going to interview Mr. Harper again, and I want Henry and Shawn to give Eileen’s sister, Dorrie, a second talking to. Get the questions you need to ask from Jesse. Tony and Kip, contact Paul’s immediate family again and question them even more thoroughly than they were yesterday. Do the same with Eileen’s parents too. They may have more to say today since the initial shock has worn off. That’s it. Let’s make this a productive day and stay safe.”

  I did a wrist check as we returned to the bull pen. We had ten minutes to gather our notes, review them, and get ready for Paul Harper’s second round of questions. He wasn’t going to get off as easily as he did yesterday. He’d pushed my buttons then by being evasive, and he wouldn’t have that chance again. Paul was hiding something, and we’d do our best to find out what it was and why.

  As we made our way downstairs, I carried the folder with our notes from his coworker’s interviews. Frank provided the intimidation factor. Paul would sit in the box until he cracked or lawyered up—we hoped he would crack. If he demanded an attorney, our interview would be cut short, but he’d sit in lockup until one arrived. After that, we’d have to solve Eileen’s murder the hard way, through a lot of interviews, legwork, and evidence, if any was found.

  We sat in the observation room and waited for Lutz. Debra Blake, our daytime desk sergeant, would lead Paul to our jail wing and Bill would place him in box one. We’d watch for a few minutes through the one-way glass to get a read on his behavior before going in.

  Lutz walked in seconds later and turned his head toward the glass. “He isn’t here yet?” He glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. “It’s almost five after the hour. Have you heard from Tillson?”

  I shrugged. “Nope, but Debra knows we’re expecting Harper and will escort him down as soon as he gets here.”

  Lutz took a seat and let out a groan. “Humph.”

  I looked at Frank and grinned.

  A buzz sounded from Lutz’s inner pocket. I hoped it was Tillson saying they had arrived and Paul was being escorted in.

  The commander pressed his phone against his ear. “Lutz here. Yep.” He glanced at the clock again. “Okay, we’re already downstairs waiting. Have Debra bring him down as soon as he walks in.” Lutz ended the call and dropped his phone back in his pocket. “They’re a couple of minutes out. Heavy traffic to and from the school, I guess.”

  “Wonder how the kids are taking everything. I’m surprised they even went to school,” Frank said.

  I nodded. “Maybe Paul needs that time alone to get his affairs taken care of. Kids shouldn’t be hanging around police stations and morgues, anyway, if it can be avoided.”

  We heard the heavy steel door that led to the jail wing open and close. Two sets of footsteps followed.

  Leaning back in the chair with his leg crossed over his knee, Lutz stared at the glass. “That has to be him.”

  Voices in the hallway passed us, then the door to box one opened. Bill led Paul Harper in, told him to have a seat, and said somebody would be with him shortly. He shot a nod at the glass before walking out.

  We’d give Paul five minutes—the standard amount of time it took us to get a read on the behavior of the person about to be questioned.

  “Wow! Can you say Nervous Nellie?” From where I sat, I saw perspiration beading on Paul’s forehead. “Wonder what has his boxers in a bind.”

  Lutz smirked. “Other than a dead wife, a BS alibi, and sitting in an interrogation box, waiting to be grilled by two detectives? He’s probably trying to remember his lies from yesterday so he can stick with that story.”

  Frank cocked his head toward the door. “Ready to mess up his day?”

  “I’m more than ready.” I grabbed a box of tissue before standing. “Looks like he’s going to need this.”

  “Get him to crack,” Lutz said before we walked out.

  “We’ll give it our best shot, Boss.”

  Frank and I entered the interrogation room and took seats opposite Paul. I slid the box of tissue across to him.

  “You think you’re funny?” he asked.

  I wrinkled my brow. “There’s that attitude again. An innocent man would want the help of the police, but maybe you aren’t so innocent. You’re sweating like a stuck pig. I brought the tissues as a gesture of kindness, nothing else. Use them or don’t use them. Can’t say I give a shit either way.”

  He pulled out a handful and wiped his forehead then balled them up and placed them in his pocket. I nodded at the wastebasket behind him.

  “Throw that crap away. Do you want a bottle of water before we get started?”

  “So you can have my prints and DNA?”

  Frank chuckled. “You watch too much TV, buddy. You live in the same damn house as the murder victim. Your fingerprints and DNA have already been collected and are in our files, but you will be printed today, anyway, just because we want to.”

  Paul glared at Frank. “Fine, I’ll take a water.”

  Frank rolled his eyes and stood. “Don’t confess before I get back with my popcorn.”

  Paul snickered. “Yeah, you’re a laugh a minute.”

  I opened the folder and sat silently while I looked over the coworkers’ statements. I knew from interrogating hundreds of people that even though the information was upside down to them, they all did their best to read what was written on the pages. Seeing that information always unnerved potential persons of interest.

  “What have you got there?” Paul asked.

  “Statements from your colleagues.”

  “You went to the pharmacy?”

  I frowned. “What do you think? We’re detectives, and that’s what we do—detect. Seems like the story you told us yesterday was bullshit, but let’s wait for Frank to return before we delve into that.”

  Paul grabbed another handful of tissues and wiped his face.

  Chapter 13

  Frank returned to the interview room with three bottles of water and placed them on the table. He took his seat, pushed one bottle across to Paul then one to me, and cracked the plastic seal on his own.

  “Did I miss anything?”

  “Only the surprised look on Paul’s face when I told him we interviewed his coworkers.”

  Frank chuckled. “Police protocol 101, dude. That’s what we do. Speaking of that, let’s dig in.”

  I handed Paul’s statement from yesterday to Frank, who read it aloud. Paul began to fidget as if he was trying to think of a new story that we’d fall for. It was too late for that.

  I followed with the statements given by his coworkers—Jennifer, Sarah, and Adam, and emphasized that each one, spoken to privately, had said that Paul left within five minutes of getting the call from Officer Tillson.

  I locked eyes with Paul. “Tillson called you at nine minutes after twelve. That means you had already clocked out by twelve fifteen. You didn’t arrive at your house until one thirty, give or take. That’s an hour and fifteen minutes later. The drive is a half hour, so grade school math tells me there’s forty-five to fifty minutes unaccounted for. What were you doing during that time?”

&nbs
p; Paul huffed. “They’re obviously wrong.”

  “So your badge is wrong too? You see, we called the headquarters where all the badge swipes are documented for payroll purposes. They said you clocked out at twelve sixteen, so cut the crap and tell us why you lied and where you went.”

  Frank pounded the table with his fist, and Paul jumped. “Speak up, pal, or you’re going into a cell.”

  “My car was on empty, so I needed to stop for gas.”

  “Where?” I asked. “You know damn well we’ll check the footage.”

  Paul stared at his hands and kept quiet.

  I glared at him. “Are you being threatened by someone?”

  He didn’t look up. “Why would you think that?”

  “Your coworkers also said you received a phone call just as you were leaving. Who was that from?”

  He shook his head. “A telemarketer.”

  Frank sneered at him. “We can pull your phone records, too, idiot.”

  “Whatever. I want an attorney.”

  He finally said the words we’d been dreading, and now the interview was over. I leaned back and knocked on the glass. Lutz would have Bill escort Paul to a holding cell until an attorney showed up.

  “Do you have one on retainer? You aren’t eligible for a public defender.”

  “I do.”

  “Then call him now with your phone because that’ll go with us until you’re released into his custody.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  Frank responded. “No, but legally, we can hold you for up to forty-eight hours for questioning, which we intend to do.”

  Paul cursed us as he mentioned his kids. “Who’s going to pick them up from school?”

  “You should have thought of that before you lawyered up. Now you can sit. Call your attorney or call a family member, but you only get one call.” I sat back and waited.

  “Fine. I’ll call my mom, Elizabeth. She can contact my attorney and pick up the kids later.”