Geech waved briefly and said, “Hi, Harry, thanks. Hopefully you’ll be out of here soon and back on your beat.”
Geech walked several times that afternoon, and after one walk, he noticed his backpack propped in a locker. He pulled it out and carried it to the bed, sitting on the side of the bed while he looked into the backpack. Several novels were in the backpack as were a change of clothes. One pocket produced an old money pouch Geech carried from a long-ago bank account. He unzipped this pouch and noted his wallet and passport were not present. He shook the pouch and a few slips of paper fell out. Two had phone numbers without area codes, and Geech was clueless who would answer the numbers. One was the slip from the hospital in Palmer, with the storage shed information. Geech felt the search of the storage room was months ago, yet to his best recollection it had been only a few weeks. He looked at the slip and noted the storage locker number was 313. He scratched at the number and a fragment of the paper would flip over and cover the three in just a manner that it appeared to be 213. Geech tried to recall the locker number he searched and felt fairly certain it was 213. That would mean he was in the wrong locker.
Geech called The Arctic Cold Storage Company. Randy answered and was cordial and friendly. The bill for unit 313 was due in a month, but Randy would not say who rented the unit. He did indicate it was a long-term customer, and that it was the policy of the unit not to give out identification of renters. Randy also confirmed unit 313 was on the third floor of a building that had been converted to a storage unit.
Geech called Trudy. “Trudy, can you get tickets to Anchorage for Michelle?”
“Paul, what are you doing out of bed? What are you doing working the case? You’re supposed to be recuperating,” Trudy asked.
“I am, but I need help with this. Michelle was supposed to come to St. Louis to close up some of her leads. Can you send her up here?” Geech asked. “And I’m in bed, just trying to get things rolling. I haven’t seen the docs yet, hope to heck it’s not Clinker taking care of me. I’ll be out real soon.”
“Glad to hear you’re doing well. So Michelle to Anchorage, need to clear that through the channels, but I don’t see any real problems since technically she’s still attached to us. Need a place for her to stay and a car?” Trudy asked.
“Yup, and we could use a warrant, too. Can you get one for search and seizure of materials deemed related to criminal activity in storage unit 313, The Arctic Cold Storage Company, Palmer, Alaska?” Geech said.
“I’ll call and see if I can have it waiting for you tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so that may be tough.”
“Make the flight on Sunday, papers ready Monday,” Geech said. “I should be out of here by then.”
“eOK, you have it.”
Geech found his cell phone and started making the call to Michelle when he noted the signs restricting cell phones from being used in the room. He got out of bed and found a robe to put over his hospital attire, and headed for the parking lot. His nurse was busy and did not see him walk by, and just before the elevator, he noted a sign indicating a cell phone approved area was further down the hall. His guard followed him to the cell phone zone room.
“Michelle, this is Geech,” he said when he got Michelle on the phone.
“Geech, what’s up? How did you find me on my cell phone?” Michelle asked.
“Trudy had the number, and I called. Hey, do you want to come to Anchorage to help me search a storage locker? I got beat up pretty badly, and I can’t do it, got you a trip up here anyway,” Geech asked.
“Sure, I’d love to come up. How did you get beat up?” Michelle asked with a concerned voice.
“I guess things got going pretty quickly. Tony sent me to a place called Kotzebue. I tracked Bishell there and got hired on as an EMT for two weeks. I tried to lift a set of prints from an instrument, and Bishell figured it out. Beat me up pretty bad, think he would have killed me, but I faked a backup call, and he got away, but I’m alive. I can’t find the instrument I got the prints on, though, so it was all for nothing. Did some searching here, too. You recall I found a receipt for a storage locker?” Geech asked.
“Yes, I do recall. You said it was a dead end, right?” Michelle asked.
“Well it was because I searched storage unit 213. I looked at the receipt while I was in bed this morning, and the receipt was for a unit on the third floor. I searched the wrong unit. I found old medical records, and that satisfied me that it was a dead end. I looked in the wrong damn storage unit.”
“Great, so you want me to get up to Anchorage to check this unit out?”
“I don’t know, but you and I will look into it on Monday. You’re already leaving Sunday. I’ll meet you up here with the local agents and a warrant for unit number 313.”
Chapter 40
Michelle in Alaska
The flight to Anchorage was another red-eye. Geech and an agent met Michelle at the Anchorage airport.
“Ms. Lumen. Hello, I am Gary Wheeland, Anchorage chief. I was told to have these warrants ready for you when you arrive. Here they are. Mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Hi, Gary. Geech, did you fill Gary in?” Michelle asked with a wrinkled brow. “Gary, we’ve been looking at a doctor that has a pattern of aggravated assault. We’ve looked for him for over ten years. He was in Palmer and Geech here tells me he was up north for awhile where he ran into him.”
“That was my trip to Kotzebue, where you rescued me when I was knocked unconscious by the guy we’re trying to catch,” Geech said. “No, Michelle, Gary and I have been talking for only a few minutes before you arrived. I only got out of the nut house a few hours ago. The doctors wanted to repeat a test or two, so we met here.”
“I guess you can fill both of us in,” Gary said.
“Well, I found a receipt for a storage shed and did an unofficial survey. I picked the wrong lock, just a quick check. I know it was illegal as it could be, but I was in a hurry. I figure it was the wrong locker, because the unit I want may be on the third floor, I was just under it on the second floor. So now we’re going to look at the one I should have looked into,” Geech said.
“Got it,” Gary said. “Here’s your warrant. Michelle, I have a car in the lot. Let’s get your baggage,” Gary said as they started down the concourse.
“Do you have the suspect on this one?” Gary asked.
“We know who we’re looking for, Gary, but he’s been a clever on,” Geech said as they stepped onto the moving stairs.
The ride to Palmer was uneventful. Gary proved to be long in tooth, and had been assigned to Anchorage for work in drug interdiction. This work had been keeping his staff pretty busy, and the trip to Palmer was a relaxation for him.
The Arctic Cold Storage was just as Geech recalled; it had only been a month. The first time Geech had been there, he had simply picked his way into the shed and looked about. He paused for a moment and thought about how he was going to do it now. He had the proper legal paperwork to enter the unit by any means required, and his first stop was the office.
The desk was festooned with motorcycle memorabilia. Pictures and models were everywhere, and the man working behind the desk had tattoos on everything exposed. Rings, earrings, and a long ponytail finished his demeanor.
Geech felt his gut tighten, knowing what he was going to discuss with the man behind the counter could get real tough real quick.
“Hello, my name is Paul Geech, and sir, this is my identification,” Geech said as he pulled his ID from the wallet and passed it across the counter. “May I ask your name, and if you are the owner?”
“Sure, I’m Randy Blaze, and no, I’m not the owner. He lives somewhere in the lower forty-eight and leaves the place with me. These friends?” Randy asked, pointing to Gary and Michelle.
“Yes, they are. I wonder if I could ask you some questions,” Geech said as he pulled his identification back.
“Not until I get a cup of coffee. Any of you folks interested? It’s not that yuppie shit you get across the s
treet, pardon my French, lady.”
“Don’t worry, Randy. I don’t understand a word of French,” Michelle answered, noting the smile that tried to creep across Randy’s face.
Randy turned and rustled up the cleanest dirty cup and filled it with what did smell like pretty good coffee.
“Randy, I’ll take that cup of coffee. That smells pretty good,” Geech said.
“Sure, hold on a minute.”
Randy turned to the back wall, produced a handsome and perfectly clean cup, and filled it.
“OK, now what can I do for you?”
“Randy, have you been working here for a long time?” Michelle asked.
“Yup, been here for fourteen years. Work another job on the power plant during winter. Now being summer, I’m just pulling this gig,” Randy said as he leaned on the counter.
“We need to know something about your business. You have done nothing wrong or illegal, but we are investigating someone who may have rented a unit from you many years ago. Do you have much information on the payment history and ownership of the units you rent?” Geech asked.
“Pretty much. Which unit you talking about?” Randy asked.
“We have a warrant to search unit 313, and also gather any other information we can get,” Geech said as he slid the warrant over to Randy.
“I ain’t got much use for reading that. If you say it is legitimate, I’ll just have to take your word. Well, I could have guessed within a couple units which one you’d be looking at, and 313 would have been on the short list. I’d have guessed. Same renter since I came here. Payment every year, ten days or so before it is due. Payment by postal money order, same signature stamp. Comes in the same envelope, and never a word else. I don’t have any of the envelopes around, but he’s due in a month. Could look for the postage cancellation mark for you.”
Michelle was impressed with Randy’s frankness and his memory. She tried the next logical question, “Do you ever recall seeing anyone in that unit?”
“Used to, but it has been awhile. It would be open for a few days, some dude working there. Then it would be closed. Lot of these units are rented to oilies, and they’re like that. Get assigned to some oil rig or project and are gone for months, then show up for a few weeks and gone again. Guys on each side are long-term renters, too, and they never complain. I can look some stuff up for you, like who rented the unit to him, but I’m the only guy here that’s been here for over a few years. Owner lets me stay in his house if I run this place, and here in Alaska that’s what you call a sweet deal.”
Randy turned on a computer and expertly went through the process of getting unit 313’s data available, then printed the list. It contained payment information for three pages. Down payment was always paid a year ahead.
“Well, Randy, everything looks pretty good here. I appreciate your information. We’re going to open his unit, if you don’t mind. Search warrant is in the papers here,” Geech said.
“Sure. I can lock up and come up with you. I’m supposed to be there when they open a unit, and the renter’s not around. Usually a divorce case, and they are trying to find the toys,” Randy said. “You can carry the coffee, Mr. Geech.”
The unit was indeed on the third floor of the main storage building, the top floor. Geech inspected the lock and shook his head, “Oh boy, this is a real lock. I’m not sure what I can do with it. I’ll need my tools, Gary, is the car locked?”
“Yeah, here are the keys. Lock it when you are done. It’s full of gear.”
Michelle walked around the sidewalk in front of the unit. There was only one unit further down the walk, and it appeared quiet. There were no patterns of heavy use or wear on the doors or floor.
Geech came back up and went to work on the lock. It took two trips to the car and Gary’s help with sliders, but the lock did open finally.
Geech stepped back and looked expectantly at the crowd, and then said, “Folks, I think it is appropriate for everyone to stand out of the potential line of fire. The guy that may have rented this has proven his danger on several occasions.”
Everyone stood clear and Geech placed a bar under the door and nudged it up. It opened a crack, and Geech placed the bar on a piece of wood, and modified the lever to allow the door to push up nearly a foot. There was no result that was alarming, so he toed the door another foot.
“Would you look at that,” Randy said, pointing to the door. “That’s not supposed to be on the door. It looks like a big rubber apron or dam. It looks like it seals the door real well, though.”
Geech pushed the door the remaining way up, and they stood and surveyed the contents. There was a workbench along one wall. Tools were neatly placed in outlines along the wall over the bench. Several filing cabinets lined another wall, and a large chest stood against the back wall. The chest had numerous drawers, started six inches deep, and narrowed to only an inch deep at the top. It was marked for a local brand of shop equipment. The interior of the shed looked neat and clean. Barriers had been placed to prevent air from freely moving from one unit to another, and the rubber barrier on the roll-up door had kept the seal tight to the ground.
Gary turned to Geech and said, “This is your call. What do you want me to do?”
Geech stood for a moment, then turned to Michelle. “Michelle, we need to establish if this is Bishell’s stuff or not. If we look at the whole pile and decide it is not, we’ll clean up and lock it up. If we start looking and find anything that will tie this to Bishell, we’ll have to tape this place and call for a professional team to do the dirty work. What are your suggestions?”
Michelle looked the shed over and nodded to the files. “We need to look at those first. If they are clean, then we can go to the boxes and cabinets in the back. My bet is that the files will be where we hit pay dirt first.”
“Files it is,” Geech said as he pulled purple gloves from his pocket and handed a pair to Michelle. She had her own pair out already, so he passed them to Gary.
Michelle was in the first file for two minutes, and said, “Lock it up, Geech. There are copies of correspondence from the Indiana Department of Medical Licensure. It’s Bishell’s, as far as I can tell. We need a special sweep, but this is his. Randy, I’ll need to tell you that the next payment will be very interesting to us, and we’d like to see it before it is handled or opened. Will that be OK with you?”
Geech was stepping out of the garage, and Gary headed for his car for the barrier tape. Randy gathered up the cups and turned to leave. “Ma’am, you tell me who I’m supposed to call, and I’ll have the check on ice until someone takes it from me.”
Michelle eyed Randy and had to smile. He had all the trappings of a character, and likely he was, but it seemed he was a pretty nice character. “That works for me, Randy, thanks for your help.”
The call came several months later when Michelle was at a conference in New Orleans, one of the first the city hosted after Katrina. The call was from Geech.
“Hey, Michelle. We got the inventory of Bishell’s storage shed. Some real interesting stuff, but the guy was a madman for sure. Seems he was slowly destroying the evidence. He had a vat up there digesting old papers. He’d been through the files one time, burned some, and had others digesting in a bucket of lye,” Geech said.
“No kidding. Was there enough to connect him anywhere?”
“Only to the first tag we got on him in Missouri. There was some data on a small hospital in Texas that we’re going to work on, and other correspondence in Ohio. There is also data on the company he organized for hiring himself out. This company never was registered, but we do have his advertising plan and a list of mailings on a computer disc. FBI in Washington is tracking the computer that did the spreadsheet, but that's a pretty thin lead. That much we have. There were some weapons up there and something that is real interesting. There was a jar of forty spent rounds. These did have organic material on them, but the DNA did not match human. We’re thinking he was switching the rounds that he took ou
t of his victims with these rounds. The round would look like the shot that caused the injury, and no one would likely check the shot for DNA match. Lab is going to match the DNA, but they suspect it will match some mammal, likely one that he could get easy access to there in Alaska. My bet is moose or caribou, but what ever it is, the story gets more and more complex. He must have had a lot of time to work on all this.”
“Wholly buckets. Bishell was a little bit thorough. What else came up?”
“It does look like he was a pretty careful player. There was one weapon up there, but ballistics tells me there are projectiles from two 9-mm pistols, same make. No numbers on the one, but MRI id did pull up a manufacture number. Another jar of bullets appear to have organic material on the surface as well. This jar was locked down real tight. We’re betting that these may match victims, and he may have been switching the bullet he pulled out in surgery with another bullet that would have ballistic markings from the unknown weapon, and my bet is it has blood on it from some road kill moose. This is all in the process of getting worked up, and I might have to task you in getting DNA from surviving victims of cases he’s worked.”
“This sure is getting complicated. So he has bullets that have organic material on them. These bullets are separated into two collections. One may be from sources that are human; and one set may be from other sources,” Michelle mused.
“That’s a good guess. I’ll have to suggest we get the evidence from what sites we can verify he worked at. The records were pretty well destroyed. Another couple of months, he’d have cleared the file, I suspect. We still don’t know where he lived and worked the locums outfit from. Might need you to visit the hospitals we knew he worked and figure out the process and paperwork that was done. The utility shed was paid from a firm in Houston that indicates their client told them he was a chemical engineer with a local oil company and he traveled a great deal. He would pay ahead a few years from that account.”
“Well, that’s good. I learned something here, too. When he goes to work as locums, he never was investigated by the insurance companies. The doctor that hires in as a replacement physician works on the paid-for policy of another physician in that original doctor’s absence. This means he’s slipped another level of review by never getting his own insurance. What a case. I better tell Colin I’ll be home late tomorrow. Thanks, Geech.”
Shoot Not to Kill Page 26