Third Chances

by Dan Petrosini

  “If you called me, I’d go out of my way too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You girls got an advantage, that’s all.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Only with cavemen like you, Frank.”

  “Lighten up. Really. you got to relax, Vargas.”

  “And you’ve got to zip it. Okay?”

  I made the T sign with my hands, “Okay, time out. How long is it going to be before they get back to you?”

  “Everybody knows this is hot.”

  Chapter 50

  Vargas and I looked at the video feed of the interview room. Dwyer was wearing a pair of black wire-frame glasses. It was the first time I’d seen him wear glasses. Between the way his hair was parted and the spectacles, he was going for the Johnny Depp look. Dwyer seemed calm, playing with his cell phone despite the red lettered sign prohibiting cell phone usage.

  Vargas shook her head. “I still can’t believe he came down without a lawyer.”

  “Plays in our favor if he’s overconfident.”

  “Maybe he’s just innocent.”

  “This guy thinks he’s smarter than everyone, and he may be, but I’ve locked up a few geniuses over the years.”

  “Do I have to lower the air?”

  Smiling, I nodded.

  “You’re so predictable, Frank.”

  Vargas headed to the thermostat as I said, “I got my ways of doing things.”

  It wasn’t superstition—making a suspect feel they had no control—it was something I learned at John Jay College.

  Dwyer slowly shifted toward the door as we entered.

  I said, “Hello, Mr. Dwyer.”

  He nodded.

  “Are the glasses new?”

  “Not really.”

  Vargas hit record, recited the formalities, and said, “Mr. Dwyer, you have the right to be represented by an attorney. If you are unable to afford counsel, the court will appoint a lawyer at no cost to you.”

  “I’m well aware of my rights.”

  “You’re declining the right to have an attorney present at this interview?”

  “Yes. I’ve nothing to hide.”

  Ah, the profession of innocence. It came early, a good sign.

  Vargas said, “Before we get started, I’d like to thank you for coming in voluntarily.”

  Dwyer raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t call it voluntary. Detective Luca said I’d be arrested if I didn’t appear.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Not exactly, but you certainly inferred it.”

  Vargas said, “You’re here now, so let’s get to it. Shall we?”

  Dwyer shrugged.

  I said, “Would you consider yourself a patient man?”

  “Patient? Yes, I believe I am. Hebrews 10:36 teaches us, ‘You need to be patient to do the will of God and receive what he promises.’”

  “So, having to wait ten years to get revenge for the murder of your mother wasn’t difficult?”

  “Detective Luca, the serpent who killed my mother is in jail.”

  “And to get at him you went after his son, Robert Hagan.”

  Dwyer shook his head. “You’re envisioning connections that don’t exist.”

  “It’s a coincidence, is it, that the son of the man who tortured and murdered your mother was killed? A man who you knew and followed down to Florida.”

  Dwyer grimaced as he stretched his back. “We’ve gone over this before. I have nothing further to add.”

  Vargas said, “Back bothering you?”

  “Never goes away.”

  I asked, “Is it another coincidence that Jeremy Kelly, the drunk who crashed into you, inflicting injuries so bad you had to learn to walk again, was found shot to death?”

  “I heard he died, but that was years after the accident.”

  “With Kelly’s record, I wouldn’t call that an accident, I’d say it was an eventuality.”

  Vargas said, “You must have been livid at Kelly.”

  “Of course, I was upset, but that doesn’t mean I killed him.”

  “Were you in Wisconsin on the day Kelly was found shot?”

  “No.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I was here, living in Florida.”

  “Do you own a Glock .44?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever owned one?”

  “No.”

  “How would you explain the fact that the bullets found in Kelly’s body match those found in Bobby Hagan and Shaun Parker?”

  Dwyer blinked, pulled his glasses off and rubbed his right eye. Was there something there, or was it just an errant eyelash?

  “I wouldn’t have a clue.”

  “Maybe you can tell us how your fingerprint got onto the .44 shell found at the scene.”

  “My fingerprints? It’s apparent you’re fishing, Detective.”

  “We’re not. it’s true. Your fingerprint was found on a shell left by the Glock that killed Jeremy Kelly.”

  “That’s impossible. I wasn’t there. I was in Florida.”

  “Tell me if this sounds possible. As a patient man, you waited years before taking action, even moving to Florida, before getting your revenge. I got to hand it to you. it was good planning, but we’ve got you now.”

  Dwyer’s eyes flicked between Vargas and me before he said, “If you had proof you would have arrested me. This interview is over.”

  He was right, whether for the time being or not was the question. The answer was going to have to wait, because Hannah Booth was coming for an interview in an hour.

  ***

  Lips pursed, Hannah Booth towered over her attorney as they made their way to the interview room Dwyer had vacated. The fear of never leaving the building when people came ‘downtown’ always threw people off. The vulnerability Hannah displayed proved she wasn’t immune.

  It was my first encounter with Marcus Knight, who was one of those annoying people who never fully lifted their feet when walking. The irritating, scuffling sound put Knight squarely in my dislike column. Hannah offered a soft hello, but Knight only nodded as they walked through the door I held open.

  I got another whiff of Hannah’s fruity perfume as Vargas and I sat on the opposite side of the stainless-steel table. I liked it, wondering how it’d smell on Mary Ann as she handled the formalities.

  “I’d like the record to reflect that my client, Hannah Booth, has come voluntarily, at considerable inconvenience and expense.”

  Most expensive services never mentioned price, but there were those at the top of every field who wore the high fees they charged like a badge. I’m sure it helped to convince many they were the best. I said, “Duly noted.”

  Vargas said, “Mrs. Booth, thank you for coming today. We have several questions that will help to clarify what role, if any, you had in—”

  “My client denies having a role in any crime.”

  Since I didn’t want to antagonize the pompous jerk, I didn’t tell him Vargas hadn’t even finished the role reference. Instead, I said, “Mrs. Booth, where were you between the hours of four p.m. and eight p.m. on August twentieth?”

  Hannah’s blond hair swayed from her ear as she tilted her head. “August twentieth? I really don’t remember.”

  “Would it help to remind you that August twentieth was the night you were arrested for driving under the influence?”

  A rosy hue rushed over her cheeks. “Oh. I was working at the church until sometime after six thirty or so.”

  “You sure about that? The Lee County arrest records state you were pulled over at seven forty p.m.”

  “No, I’m pretty certain I was there until at least six thirty.”

  “Was anyone with you at the church?”

  “Uhm, there may have been, but I was in my office.”

  “Were you drinking alcohol in the church?”

  “No, of course not.
Minister Booth doesn’t permit alcohol on the premises.”

  “When you left, where did you go?”

  She reached for her lower back, “It was a very stressful day, and my husband was up in Immokalee. He wouldn’t be home until ten or so, so I went for a drive to clear my head.”

  “Were you drinking and driving?”

  Knight put his hand on Hannah’s arm and said, “Mrs. Booth was charged and accepted responsibility for her actions that night.”

  I said, “I’m simply asking whether she was drinking as she drove.”

  “No, I’d never do that.”

  “If you weren’t drinking at work or behind the wheel, how do you explain your point two seven alcohol blood level at the time of arrest?”

  Knight leaned over and whispered in her ear. Hannah said, “On the recommendation of counsel, I am taking the fifth.”

  I slammed a palm onto the table. “The fifth? Were you drinking or not?”

  “Mrs. Booth has already invoked her legal right. Next question.”

  Vargas nudged me under the table and said, “You had a bad day and left your office to take a ride and clear your head. I get it. many times I do the same thing. Where did you drive to?”

  “Just around, you know. I remember driving on Livingston for a while, and then I was in Bonita.”

  “Were you in the Wiggins Pass area that night?”

  She answered too quickly. “No.”

  Vargas opened her file and slid the time-stamped photo of her on Vanderbilt Drive and Wiggins. “How do you explain this?”

  She didn’t touch the photo, but Hannah’s blue eyes moistened. “I—I, uh, I donno. Maybe I was wrong.”

  Knight said, “Mrs. Booth’s memory was impaired that evening.”

  I said, “She was over the legal limit but far from the blackout zone.”

  Knight said, “Alcohol effects have been known to vary dramatically from person to person.”

  “There’s a significant period of time and events that need explanation.”

  “My client has already said she does not recall.”

  “We’ll see how a jury likes that.”

  “If you’re threatening an arrest, this interview and our cooperation are over. Is that understood?”

  Vargas said, “We’re trying to piece together a time line for Mrs. Booth on August twentieth.”

  “And we’re attempting to cooperate.”

  I said, “Okay, let’s move on. As you know, we found Mrs. Booth’s hair on Shaun Parker’s body and the gun used in three killings in her office. We’ve heard the denials regarding them, but forensics has discovered her DNA on Dick Cornwall’s body.”

  The color drained out of Knight’s face so fast he looked like an outline in a coloring book. Hannah scrunched up her face and said, “What?”

  Knight said, “Take the fifth, Mrs. Booth.”

  Hannah said, “I don’t understand. How they could have found that?”

  “We’ll find out what they have in discovery.”

  “But isn’t that after an arrest?”

  “Yes, but don’t concern yourself about that.”

  “But I can’t get arrested. No, I didn’t do anything. I swear.”

  Knight rose. “I’m afraid this interview is over, detectives. You’ve upset my client and we’re leaving.” He grabbed Hannah’s elbow and headed out the door.

  When the door slammed shut I said, “We got something here.”

  “I don’t know if it was so smart to lie about the DNA, Frank.”

  Smiling, I said, “Her denial seemed genuine, but there was no doubt she’s guilty of something.”

  I turned my cell on as Vargas said, “That was bizarre.”

  “Yeah, and that bullshit about her not remembering. Where was she? She lied about being close to where Hagan’s body was dumped.”

  “You know what it means if she was telling the truth about Cornwall?”

  I nodded. “We’re dealing with two killers.”

  “I doubt it, though. She’s been deceptive from day one.”

  “Shit, a voice mail from Minister Booth. Probably wants to piss on me for bringing his wife in again. Since you had a hand in this, you should get reamed as well.” I put the speaker on and hit play:

  “Detective Luca. This is Minister Booth, please get down here as soon as possible. I found something disturbing, and please don’t say anything to Hannah, okay? Just get here as quickly as possible.”

  Chapter 51

  Hands jammed in his pockets, Minister Booth walked over as I pulled into the parking lot.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Detective.”

  I shook his clammy hand. “No problem, Minister. What’s going on?”

  “Follow me, but please keep things quiet.”

  Booth walked through the doors of the church and down the nave’s center aisle. Empty churches were places many took solace in, but they made me uncomfortable. Was it the thought of being alone with God or the possibility I’d have to examine myself?

  I followed Booth up a step to the altar area. He hit a switch and the lights in an area behind a screen lit up. “It’s in the chancel.” We took another step up and around the screen. The space was dominated by a wooden buffet topped with a white lace runner. Anchoring the table was a large Bible, resting open, in a brass stand.

  “I was getting prepared for Sunday’s services and noticed the runner was dirty.” He pointed to a gray smudge. “I went to grab a clean one in here.” Booth grabbed a knob and pulled a door open, revealing a six-inch-high stack of linens.

  “It’s behind the runners.”

  I pulled on gloves and bent down. What was in there? A body part? Money?

  “When I saw it I didn’t do anything. I never touched it. It sickened me having it so close to the altar.”

  I reached behind the linens. It was a gun, a black Glock .44.

  Recovering my balance, I snapped three pictures of the gun before removing and bagging it.

  “Any idea who might have hidden it here?”

  “No. It’s shocking. I can’t imagine.”

  “Who has access to this area?”

  “It’s reserved for clergy, but as you can see, it’s accessible to anyone.”

  “You were concerned about mentioning your call to Hannah. Why was that?”

  Booth swallowed. “Well, I don’t think she has anything to do with it, but if she does, well, she’ll have to answer for it.”

  “I appreciate your neutrality, Minister. You’re an honorable man. I’m going to ask you to keep this quiet until we can figure out if it’s related to the homicides.”

  Booth nodded. “I understand. I hope the truth comes out quickly. Under the present circumstances, I’m very uncomfortable and will be praying that my wife has nothing to do with all this. If she did . . .” he spread his arms out. “all of this will be lost. We’ll have to shut down, I’m sure.”

  “We can test and analyze within hours. You won’t have to wait long.”

  “I can’t bear to think she . . . she was involved in anything like this, and I missed it.”

  I patted his shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve come to realize we never really know somebody.”

  “God knows. He knows every hair on your head.”

  I tucked the bagged Glock in my jacket, and Booth walked me out. Saying goodbye, I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His closest confidant, his wife, had possibly betrayed everything he stood for. I wanted to peel out of the lot but couldn’t alarm Booth any further, so I took my time pulling out and called Vargas.

  ***

  “You know, Vargas, in my twenty years of law enforcement, I’ve only witnessed five ballistics tests, but here we are, back in the basement in the space of a couple of months.”

  “This is my third, and with that musty smell I hope it’s my last.”

  I leaned into her, putting my hand on
her butt. “You smell nice, like Dove soap.”

  Vargas elbowed me, whispering, “Knock it off, Frank.” the ballistics tech came back in announcing he was ready.

  I handed a pair of ear protection muffs to Vargas and put on a pair myself. The tech inserted the Glock into the funnel, looked at us, and pulled the trigger. The bullet streaked through the water, reminding me of a submarine’s torpedo from a War World II movie. We removed our ear protection as the tech scooped the bullet out of the tank.

  “Let me see that.”

  The tech bagged the bullet and handed it to me. There didn’t appear to be anything remarkable, but the testing to come could elevate the slug’s reputation to extraordinary. Handing the bag back, we followed the tech to the forensics lab upstairs.

  I sat on one of the lab’s stainless-steel stools staring at the back of a tech hunched over a microscope. Vargas had left to grab us coffee. I got up and began pacing the room, which was at least ten degrees too cold for me.

  “Biting your fingernails?”

  Taking a coffee from Vargas, I said, “Uh, had a hangnail.”

  “Calm down. We’ll get the results when they’re ready.”

  Chapter 52

  A streak of orange burst onto the horizon. My watch read 6:39 a.m. Eight officers were strategically positioned, watching the house. The ultimate plan had us apprehending the suspect leaving the house before 7 a.m. The backup, which looked likely, was to have a plainclothes officer knock on the door.

  There was only one light on in the house as I gave the order to pull back out of the front door’s sight line. In the eight minutes it took to hit 7:00 a.m., daylight had poured in. I gave the signal. The youngest member of our team walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

  A light came on in the foyer a second before the front door opened. As instructed, the officer told the suspect that his car was on fire. When the suspect stepped out of the house, three officers, guns drawn, rushed from the side of the house.

  I trotted over. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Robert Hagan.” Reciting the Miranda warning, I felt a pair of icy eyes boring into me as the cuffs were snapped on.