Dark Alleys

by Rick Polad

  Rosie finished a bite of burger. “My gut instinct? Likable. I felt sorry for him. He truly had no idea why we were arresting him. Seemed timid and shy. But I’ve seen people like that go nuts with the right trigger.”

  Spencer nodded. “Like mentioning County.”

  “Yup, like that. Something snaps and someone flips a table over. Pretty abnormal behavior.”

  “Ben says the same thing. He was shocked when the guy flipped the table. There’s a real fear of County there.”

  “I’d be surprised if there wasn’t. Can’t imagine going through that at ten years old. I wonder if he ever visited his father there.”

  Spencer salted his fries. “Yeah, that’d make a lasting impression. But maybe that’s all there is to it, Rosie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe all these things are just a reaction of a ten year old kid. Maybe the timid, shy guy is the real Charles. Maybe you should go with your gut instinct.”

  “Gotta go with the reality, Spencer. No matter what my gut says, there’s a lot of anger and violence there.”

  Squirting more ketchup on his burger, Spencer said, “He obviously can be violent when provoked. Just spontaneously goes nuts. And the prostitute angle seems to provoke him. So, where do you go from here?”

  Rosie finished her burger and said, “I checked the gas station this afternoon for the limo. They weren’t too thrilled about checking and had no charge records during that time period.”

  “How hard did they look?”

  “I don’t know. Took a coupla minutes.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What do you mean, hmm?”

  “Just hmm. Are you still looking for the knife?”

  “No, that stopped Saturday. Kinda like looking for a needle in a haystack with all those rocks. And if it was thrown into the lake it could be buried in sand or washed down the lake by now.”

  “Or someone could have picked it up.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Like who?”

  Spencer shrugged. “No one in particular.”

  They paid and Spencer walked Rosie to her car.

  “Thanks for meeting me, Rosie. I had a nice time.”

  “So did I, Spencer. I don’t have a better friend.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  “Me either.”

  Spencer watched her drive away and waved. When he got to his car, he pulled out his notebook and flipped to the page with the address of the gas station. He turned around and headed south.

  Chapter 94

  Stosh was sick on Tuesday so the meeting was postponed until Wednesday. Steele walked into Stosh’s office Wednesday morning in a brown suit that looked like he had slept in it.

  Stosh filled Rosie and Steele in on some details about Friday that weren’t covered at roll call. After a few questions, he said, “Let’s get back to Miss Brock.”

  Rosie had nothing from the gas station. Steele had three clients who were in the system. Unfortunately, one was dead, one was in jail, and the third had moved to Tennessee two years ago.

  Stosh rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t think there was anything there, but we gotta try. Steele, make sure the guy still is in Tennessee. Both of you help follow up on calls from the public. We might be doing okay, but check with Williams and see if he needs help.” So far, nothing had come of public tips.

  As Rosie pushed her chair back, the phone rang. It was a resident north of Miss Brock’s house asking for Lt. Powolski, relaying a message from Spencer. He wanted someone to come out to the rocks. He had found something.

  * * *

  Spencer arrived at the Brock house a little after eight. The sky was clear and a light breeze was blowing off the lake. He parked in the drive, walked out onto the beach, sat on one of the rocks, and looked up the shoreline. After about ten minutes, he saw movement about a hundred feet away. As he watched, a head appeared, and then two arms reached up and a person climbed onto the rocks. Spencer didn’t know if it was the same person Charles had seen, but long hair, a beard, and ragged clothes put the man into the bum category.

  Spencer considered asking him if he ever found anything, but decided to just watch for the moment. The man carried a plastic bag that did have something in it, but it wasn’t the shape of a knife. Spencer thought the man might take off if approached, so he just watched.

  The man continued to climb over the rocks. Ten minutes later he stopped, put down his bag, and got down on hands and knees. He stuck his arm down between two slabs of rock, but came out empty. He picked up his bag and continued north on the rocks.

  Spencer let him move off a ways and then climbed to the rocks where the bum was. He didn’t see anything other than rock. And then, as he moved his head to a certain angle, he saw the glint of something shiny between the rocks. He lost it when he moved and had to get the correct angle of the sun before he saw it again. There was definitely something down there, but too far down to reach.

  He sat on the rock, took off a shoe and a sock and pushed the sock down into the crack so he could find the rock again. After putting his shoe back on, Spencer went back to Miss Brock’s street and rang the doorbell of the house opposite hers. A lady answered. She wasn’t sure what to make of Spencer’s request. But since all he was asking was for her to call the police, she agreed.

  * * *

  Rosie and Steele and a patrol car arrived twenty minutes later. Spencer led them to the rock with his sock in it. They saw nothing. He told them they had to move their head until they caught the angle of the sun that would reflect off the object. He guaranteed there was something down in that crack. Steele saw it first.

  “I got it. Holy crap, how did you find that?”

  Spencer told them about the bum Charles had seen on the rocks.

  It took Rosie another minute, but she found it also. “Looks like it’s down six feet. How do we get it out? We’re not going to move these rocks.” The rock ledge was a good thirty feet wide and the object was about in the middle.

  “Well, if we had to, we could move the rocks,” answered Spencer. “But there has to be a better way.”

  “Like what?” asked Steele.

  Spencer took a deep breath. “Did you ever try that game at a carnival where you had to lower a string loop down and catch a prize?”

  “Never been to a carnival,” said Steele.

  “Geez, Steele,” said Rosie. “What did you do when you were a kid?”

  “Smoked cigars.”

  She sighed. “I know what you mean Spencer, but with those you could see the prize. We’re not even sure what we’re looking at.”

  “Worth a try.”

  “I agree. Be right back.” Rosie went back to the Ford and returned with a flashlight.

  She got down on her knees and shined the light into the crack. “Looks like a knife to me.”

  “What about the handle?” asked Spencer.

  “Can’t tell. Let’s give it a shot. There’s a hardware store a couple blocks west. Steele, you want to stay with the site?”

  “Sure.” He immediately pulled out a cigar.

  Rosie briefed the two officers and asked them to keep people off the rocks.

  * * *

  Spencer and Rosie returned with a ball of thick string, two thin metal rods, and a roll of tape.

  Spencer taped a length of string to the ends of the rods and made a loop in the loose end.

  “You gotta be kidding,” said Steele as Spencer lowered the string into the crack.

  “I’m taking better ideas.”

  Steele blew out a cloud of smoke. “What’s the other rod for?”

  “If I get lucky, I can loop the string around the blade and it’ll catch on the handle and I can pull it out. If I don’t get lucky, we may need two loops working at the same time with one around each end of the knife.”

  “Not possible. How long before you get tired of doing that and give up?”

  “I think it is possible, so I’ll keep trying until someone comes up with a better idea.”<
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  There were none.

  “Rosie, would you hold the flashlight?”

  Spencer managed to get the loop around the blade, but it took ten minutes. As he pulled up, the knife tilted blade up and he saw the loop was going to slide off. He pulled the loop off the knife and tried again. This time it took twice as long to hook it. He jostled the knife a bit, hoping to tilt it the other way. No luck.

  “Okay, this is going to take two loops. Step up, put down your quarter, and try to win a Kewpie doll.”

  Steele gave Spencer a blank stare that said are you nuts?

  Rosie picked up the second rod.

  “You want to try and loop the handle, or hold this one?”

  “I’ll give it a shot. I won a stuffed monkey once.”

  “Lucky you,” said Steele.

  Steele took the flashlight from Rosie. She hooked it within a minute.

  “Okay, pull a little, Rosie.”

  When she did, the knife tipped up with the handle up.

  “Good,” Spencer said with excitement. “Now pull your end up slowly.”

  As she pulled, Spencer’s string started to slide up the blade towards the handle.

  “My loop is coming off the handle,” she said.

  “Okay, stop. Hang on while I pull my end up.” When he pulled, the blade end came up, leveling the knife. “Okay, if we both pull at the same rate it should come up. Go very slowly.”

  A few minutes later the knife was close enough to see. It was covered with what looked like dried blood. And it wasn’t a knife—it was a dagger, with a fancy snake body for a handle.

  Steele put on gloves and carefully grabbed the dagger when it came to the surface. “I’ll be damned.”

  Rosie was beaming. “Nice job, Spencer!”

  Steele dropped the dagger into an evidence bag and they headed for the lab.

  Spencer stayed on the rocks, wondering what the lab would find.

  Chapter 95

  Spencer’s phone rang at eight a.m. Thursday morning.

  “Spencer?”

  “Ummm, yeah.”

  “Wake up,” said a broken voice Spencer didn’t recognize.

  Not a polite, are you awake? Or did I wake you?

  “Who is this?”

  “Laura. Are you awake?”

  “I’m awake. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, thanks to you. Just wanted to say thanks.”

  “You already did.”

  “Well, not with words.”

  Spencer smiled. “I liked the other way better.”

  She laughed.

  He asked what her plans were.

  “I’m going to do whatever I need to do here, and then I think it’s time for me to go home.”

  Spencer was relieved. “I think so, too.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Not sure exactly how to put this.” Another pause. “You lost your sister. But ever since you started this, you’ve been losing you.”

  “I know. I realized that as I was riding to the hospital. I was relieved that it was over.”

  “But I do have a lot of respect for what you have done for Katherine, Laura. Not many sisters would do the same. I’ll keep my fingers crossed and my eyes open. And by the way, so will my friends.”

  “Thanks, Spencer. I just wish the results had been better with her. And I’d like to do something for the women I’ve met on the streets. I feel so badly for them.”

  “You already have. Friday is in jail.”

  “I mean something tangible.”

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t know. Some kind of fund to help them start a new life.”

  “Good for you, Laura. I’m sure you’ll figure that out.”

  “Do you have a pencil?”

  “Yup.”

  She gave him her number in Naples. “Thanks again, Spencer. You’re the best.”

  “So are you, Laura. Proud to know you.”

  Spencer scrambled some eggs with bacon and ate out on the sunny deck.

  Chapter 96

  Spencer’s phone rang at 3:35 Thursday afternoon. He was just getting ready to head for the lake to run along the path.

  “Hey, Spencer.”

  “Good afternoon, Ben.”

  “That definitely depends on your point of view.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning lab report on the dagger. Blood is Miss Brock’s.”

  “Sure. Nothing point of viewy about that.”

  “Nope. But prints all over the dagger belong to Charles Lamb. No others.”

  Silence.

  “Spencer?”

  Spencer sat and breathed deeply. “Yeah. Got it. So, I get the guy out of jail and then put him back in.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. The truth will come out. And if it points to Charles, so be it.”

  “Are you defending him?”

  “Yup. Only makes sense. I already know the case.”

  “Am I still helping?”

  “Not officially. You found the evidence that implicates him. Officially, I shouldn’t even be talking to you. The prosecutor would have a field day with this.”

  “So I’m done?”

  “Officially, yes, you’re done.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I just said it. Adios mi amigo.”

  Spencer hung up and stared at the phone. He had never been fired before. Great. And he wasn’t even getting paid.

  * * *

  Charles was arrested at 1:50 Thursday afternoon and charged with first-degree murder. He was transferred to County and put on suicide watch.

  * * *

  Jimmy watched the police cars pull into the driveway. He noted the time in his book. Eight minutes later, Mr. Lamb walked out in handcuffs with a policeman on both sides of him.

  * * *

  Spencer called Ben at 10:15. “How’s he doing, Ben?”

  “Not good. He only says two things—he didn’t kill Miss Brock, and he wants to kill himself. Bond hearing in the morning. The preliminary hearing will probably be on Monday. But with fingerprints on the murder weapon...”

  “Yup, pretty damning.” Spencer paused. “I’ve been thinking, Ben. There are several things about this that we have thought were strange.”

  “Yes? Like?”

  “Like the way he was hired. We thought he was lying about something. But Brock hired Margaret the same way.”

  “What do you mean, the same way?”

  “I mean on the spur of the moment. Brock met Margaret by chance and wanted to help her. Told her to show up for work the next day. Gave her a key to the house.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “A friend.”

  “So? We’re not questioning Margaret.”

  “No, but we are questioning whether Brock hired Charles that way. And if she did that with Margaret, she could have done it with Charles. And if he isn’t lying about that, maybe he’s not lying about anything else either.”

  Ben leaned back in his chair and rested his elbow on the arm. “Okay, but his fingerprints are on the knife.”

  “He polished the silver a few weeks ago. Of course his prints are on the knife.”

  “But only his.”

  “Someone could have worn gloves.”

  “And have access to the knife?”

  “Well, I’m not saying I’ve got all the answers. What’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to re-order the psych eval and hopefully save him from the electric chair.”

  “How about we try and get him off. His only chance is if we assume he’s innocent and look somewhere else for the answers.”

  “What answers?”

  “Ben, if he didn’t do it, someone else had to have a key and someone else had to have access to the knife.”

  “Spencer, you could say someone else for every crime. The most obvious is usually the answer.”

  “Maybe he did it. But we’d be able to say we tried our best. I’d like you to ask him a question.”

  “Sure, what?”
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  “Why did he put the money in the baggie in the bushes?”

  “Okay. I’m seeing him early morning. I’ll call you. You going to be home?”

  “Don’t know. If not, page me.”

  “Will do. Get some sleep.”

  “You too.”

  Spencer knew he would be lying awake most of the night.

  * * *

  Thursday evening Sarah got a call from an attorney representing Steven Lamb, who had died the week before. He apologized for calling her so late, but he had been busy. The reading of the will was going to be in the morning. He asked if Charles could attend. She said he was indisposed and asked if she could come in his place. He said she could. Sarah went to bed with a smile on her face. Steven was worth millions, and Charles was his only relative.

  Chapter 97

  Sarah arrived at the law offices of Sparks and Reynolds five minutes early Friday morning. The secretary asked her to wait a few minutes and offered coffee. Sarah was too nervous for coffee. She was shown into Mr. Reynolds’ office a few minutes later.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Lamb. We’re waiting for one more person.”

  “Good morning.” She wondered who that might be.

  A minute later, Marcy Jenkins, Steven’s secretary, walked into the room and took a seat next to Sarah. They did not say hello. Sarah looked at her with a hateful glance and knew that in a few minutes she would be looking at Marcy with a smile.

  “I’m sure you both just want to get to the will contents, so let’s begin. It’s really very simple. There are only three bequests. Mr. Steven Lamb has left a sum of $100,000 to his secretary, Miss Jenkins.”

  Marcy was overwhelmed and started to cry. Mr. Reynolds offered a box of Kleenex.

  He continued. “To Mr. Charles Lamb, he has left his stamp collection, which he says Charles helped him with when they were children.”