by J K Franko
The organized offender has strong social skills and will use these to get the victim into a position where he can execute his criminal plan. He will usually use his own weapon in committing the crime and often move the body from the scene of the crime to confuse police.
He likely takes a souvenir or trophy from the murder. He enjoys the cruelty of the act and may have tortured the victim. The organized offender will follow news stories concerning the crime.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Travers had traded calls and voicemail messages with Marty McCall until they finally managed to schedule a phone call for 2:00 p.m. on May 17st. It was a Thursday. Travers called on schedule, and this time Marty answered. After briefly introducing himself, Travers dove right in.
“I’m calling about your former roommate, Joe Harlan Jr.”
“What about him?” McCall asked.
“He’s disappeared,” Travers said, bluntly. “We suspect, actually, that he’s been murdered.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I rarely joke about homicide,” Travers said.
“What happened? Is that dick—I mean, penis—the penis thing I saw on the news, was that his, after all?” McCall asked. Then he added, “Wait, what’s that got to do with me? You do realize you’re calling Seattle, right? I’m halfway across the country. Wait. Do I need to call my lawyer?”
“Take it easy, Mr. McCall, I’m just checking boxes. You have nothing to worry about right now.”
“Right now? What do you mean, right now?”
“Look, Marty. Can I call you Marty? I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of the case. You’ll appreciate that. Right now, I just need some preliminary information. Can you help me with that?” Travers waited for a response.
Finally, McCall said, “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Can you tell me if you’ve travelled lately? Outside Seattle, I mean.”
“Shit. I haven’t been to Austin since I left. I’m going to be down there in about a week to give my deposition in the lawsuit but it’s the first time in almost two years,” McCall added quickly. “I’m assuming you know about the lawsuit?”
“So, you haven’t traveled outside Seattle lately?” Travers asked again, keeping the conversation where he needed it.
“No. I have not.”
Travers waited, but McCall didn’t volunteer anything further.
“Can you tell me if you’ve been to Miami lately?”
“Detective, I’ve already told you that I haven’t been anywhere.”
“No, Marty, you said you haven’t been to Austin. I want to know if you’ve been to Florida lately.” Travers waited for an answer, but none came and his patience was wearing thin. “Look, I can always arrange for the local PD to stop by, pick you up and take you in for questioning if that’s easier,” Travers said, seemingly indifferent.
“Florida? No. I haven’t been to Florida,” the man finally said. “Why would I go to Florida?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t you fundraising for your company?”
“Yeah, but what’s Miami got to do with all this?”
“Can you tell me where you were from May 1st to May 4th—what you were doing on those days?”
“I was here. In Seattle, I mean.”
“Doing what?”
“Living life, Detective. What do you think?” the man snapped.
“Can anyone verify just how you might have been doing that?” Travers asked.
“Sure, lots of people.”
“Could you give me names and contact information?”
“Happy to,” McCall answered. “Hold on.”
Travers heard clicking in the background. Not the fake clicking that you hear when you call AT&T and they try to make you think that the automated voice is actually typing on a computer. This was real clicking and typing.
“Okay. You got a pen?” McCall asked.
“Go ahead.”
McCall provided a list of names and phone numbers. During the days in question, he had had coffee with three different people in Seattle. He’d had lunch with someone different every day. He’d had two dinner meetings, and one dinner at home with his girlfriend. He also volunteered the fact that his office building was fitted with state of the art security and that his key card would verify when he had come and gone from work on those days. He gave Travers relevant contact details for the security office in his building.
After all this, McCall added, “If you call any of these folks I met with, can I ask that you be... I don’t know, discreet? No offense, but I’m trying to build a business here. We’re still fundraising. Some of these folks are potential investors. I moved out here to get away from Joe and Frank. I don’t need them tainting my business now.”
“Sure,” Travers answered. “I’m not interested in causing you any problems, Marty. I’m only interested in the facts. I promise to be discreet.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.”
“You mentioned that you were coming to Austin soon. I assume you would be okay with meeting me while you’re down here, just for a few follow-up questions?” It was always better to interview witnesses live. Body language was completely lost over the phone. If Travers could interview McCall live, it would be much more valuable to the investigation.
McCall paused, and then eventually and somewhat petulantly, Travers thought, replied with, “Whatever. Sure. That’s fine.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Roy’s intercom burst to life.
“Roy?”
“Yeah, Eve?”
“Marty McCall on line two.”
Roy picked up, injecting a smile into his voice even though he already suspected what this call was about. “Hey Marty. How’s it going?”
“Hello Roy. How are you doing? Staying out of trouble?”
Roy hesitated. Well, not quite. “Sure am. You?”
“Good. Listen, I’ve been thinking about your proposal, and I just don’t think your valuation number is fair.”
McCall then launched into a long-winded explanation as to why TrueData was worth more, much more, than Roy had proposed paying. They’d been through all this before, though. McCall wasn’t adding anything new.
And, as we know, Roy wasn’t even considering investing. He never had been. The offer he’d made to Marty had all been a ploy, part of getting Harlan down to Miami. Now, it no longer mattered. McCall was just giving him an easy out by refusing to lower his price.
McCall summed up, “So, I’d like you to think about investing, but just going with the price I initially proposed. Take some time. Sleep on it. Think about what I’ve said. Then let me know.”
“Alright, Marty. Well, sorry you feel that way. I’ll talk to the team and get back to you, though, okay?”
Roy was about to hang up, when McCall took the conversation in an unexpected direction.
“Cool,” McCall said and then added, quickly, “Also, on another note. You probably heard about Joe and all that stuff on the news?”
Shit.
His response was somber. “I did. Horrible stuff.”
“Well, I just talked to the cops. Nothing to worry about. Just standard procedure—since we’re involved in this lawsuit, I assume they needed to talk to me. I guess you could say that I could benefit from Joe’s disappearance.”
He didn’t just disappear, Marty, Roy thought.
Marty cleared his throat and continued, “Nice guy. The cop—Travers. Art Travers. He was mainly interested in where I was. You know, checking my alibi and all that. I guess. I’m good though, of course. I was in Seattle the whole time. Shitload of witnesses. And I haven’t talked to Joe in forever. And, um, I don’t really have anything to hide.”
McCall paused giving Roy enough time to wonder why the fuck is he telling me all this shit?
“I’m going to get inte
rviewed again, though,” he finished.
“Is that right?” Roy forced himself to remark. There was silence at the other end of the line and he waited for a long time, all while his leg bounced nervously, impatiently under his desk.
“Yeah,” McCall finally continued, thoughtfully. “I fucked up and told him I was going to be in Austin for the lawsuit. You know, my deposition. So, now he wants to meet in person.” The man’s tone had changed. He seemed agitated, yet at the same time smug. “I assume Detective Travers is going to ask more questions. Odd thing is, he asked me if I’d been in Miami lately.” McCall paused. Roy said nothing. “Which is a ‘no,’ I haven’t. But he mentioned it in connection with ‘fundraising.’ That seemed odd to me. Strange. But it did get me thinking about you.”
“Really? How so?” Roy asked, as casually as his nerves would allow. He now suspected what the little shit was implying.
“Do you know anything about Joe being in Miami, Roy? I mean, I just assumed he got whacked in Austin. But then when I thought about it…”
“Marty, I don’t know if we should be talking about this, under the circumstances,” Roy heard himself saying.
“Really? Why not? We’ve got nothing to hide, have we, Roy? I mean, it sure is messy. Anything to do with cops. It’s like skunk piss. I can’t tell you how long it took me to get the stink of that whole rape shit off me.”
“Marty—”
“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that when Art, the detective, asked me about Miami and fundraising, I thought of you. My guess is that it’s bound to come up again when I meet with him next—Miami and fundraising. And, of course, if he asks how we met, I’m just gonna have to go ahead and tell him the truth. Just tell him how we met. What we discussed. You know. Just tell him how we met at the Trace. How we talked business. You really liking my company. How you were looking really hard at investing.” Marty paused. “Of course, we never discussed Joe. His name never came up.”
Roy sat silent, for a moment, choosing his words carefully, then answered, “Sure, Marty. You know that the truth is best—”
“Anyway, that’s all I got, man. Sleep on my proposal and let me know. The sooner the better, of course. In fact, let me know before I go to Austin. I’m going to take advantage of my trip to do some fundraising down there. You don’t want anyone jumping the line ahead of you, right? Especially given how excited you were about the company when we last met. I think we could work really well together. Right?”
“I will think on it, Marty,” Roy said reluctantly. “And I have to say, you’re a good negotiator. I know there’s a lot of interest in TrueData here.”
“Cool. Talk to you later. And... stay out of trouble.”
“Goodbye.”
You little fucker.
This was not how Roy had planned things, and he was starting to feel the pressure bearing down on him like a giant boulder of shit.
He took some time to gather his thoughts. He resolved, at least for the time being, that the best strategy with McCall was simply to delay.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Harlan had “disappeared” May 2nd. The penis was found on the door about a week later. From that point, the Miami investigative contingent took about a week to run down their various leads.
Garza had two officers canvas Brickell City Centre. They carried with them a headshot of Harlan, as well as a still image taken from the surveillance video showing how he’d been dressed when he’d left the hotel.
At Saks, they were able to identify the clerk who’d sold him the boat shoes. She remembered him. Cute. Kind of flirty. He’d been alone. Hadn’t said anything she could remember about what he was doing or where he was going.
Aside from Saks, they came up empty.
The marina and surrounding shops they approached differently. First, they obtained a list of all of the boats with slips at the marina, as well as the names of their owners. Most of the boats were titled under individual names. A few were titled under entities—corporations or limited liability companies. They chased these down to find owner names. None matched any of the names on their list of persons of interest, or even had any connections to any of those individuals.
Garza emailed the boat owner list to Travers, who in turn emailed it to Senator Harlan. Harlan reviewed the list, but told Travers that none of the names meant anything to him.
Rosa had the idea that maybe “Cruise Captain” referred to the name of an actual boat—a boat name with the word “cruise” in it. It was a good theory, but they drew a blank there also.
One of the boat slips was rented out to a Frank Cruz. Further investigation, though, determined that he owned a sailboat, and that the boat hadn’t even been in the marina at the time of the disappearance. It had been up at Norseman’s Boatyard having its hull repainted.
Rosa took on the job of contacting all the sightseeing boat companies in the area to see if anyone by the name of Harlan, McCall, Kim, Cruise, or Wise had chartered a cruise or been onboard. She compiled a list of twenty-three companies that provided bay tours or dinner boat rides. Two had the word “cruise” or some variant in their company name. Over the course of two days, she contacted each and every one of them and verified all associated records.
Nothing.
Having found no leads through their preliminary investigation of the marina, they took to the pavement. Eddie and Rosa walked the marina. They questioned employees, flashed Harlan’s photo.
Nothing.
They inspected fuel receipts—most boaters paid for their fuel by credit card. The police compiled a list of names, but nothing jumped out at them. There were three cash purchases of fuel from the day of the disappearance. They questioned the employees who had been working the pumps that day, but it had been over two weeks since the disappearance. “You know how many boats come through here in a day? At a certain point, they all just run together, man.” That was the stock answer, and it was maddening.
Next, they expanded their canvassing efforts to include shops and restaurants around the marina. They went store-by-store, starting in the morning and returning in the evenings, in order to be sure to question as many of the employees who worked on the day of the disappearance as possible.
Nothing.
One Starbucks barista said she thought she remembered seeing a guy who fit Harlan’s description. He’d been alone, standing outside the shop. It had been slow at the time, so she’d been watching him. He’d just been standing around. They’d even made eye contact a couple of times she thought. Hard to tell because he’d been wearing sunglasses. She’d assumed he was waiting for someone but wasn’t sure. She was a firm believer in “See something, say something...” She’d been watching him, but then someone had come into the shop and ordered a latte. When she’d finished with that customer, the guy outside was gone.
Rosa logged her name and contact information.
After leaving a couple of messages and getting no return phone call, Eddie and Rosa made a personal stop at Sweet Miami’s headquarters, a surprisingly respectable office space in Miami Shores. He spoke with a lady named Carmen. After identifying himself and doing a bit of cajoling, she checked her records and confirmed that a guy calling himself Joe Smith had made a date with one of their escorts for 6:00 p.m. at the Intercontinental, Room 576. However, he’d called back later to cancel. He was listed as a “cash pay” on the record.
Other than that, the name, and his phone number at the hotel, there was nothing else to tell. Carmen told the detectives that she had personally taken the call. She remembered that this Joe guy had been looking for a Latina, minimum D-cup. Nothing else. It was most likely Harlan, but all in all, it wasn’t much to go on.
The Uber drivers had little more to offer. One didn’t remember Harlan at all. And when presented with the record of the trip and the photos, the driver shrugged and said, “Just another fare.”
The oth
er remembered Harlan. He recalled that the young man asked about “the marina near Bayside.” The driver had told him it was about a ten-minute walk from the hotel and given him directions on how to get there on foot. He’d offered to drive him, but the man had said he wanted to walk and see the sights.
The driver remembered because the guy had tipped him in cash. This at least indicated that Harlan had been interested in the marina, and that it had possibly been his destination that evening.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Travers wasn’t surprised when McCall asked that the interview take place at his lawyer’s office. He was coming to Austin in connection with the Procurex-TrueData lawsuit, so it was logical that he would mention Travers’ call to his lawyer, and equally logical that his lawyer would highly recommend being present—if for no other reason than to run up some fees.
McCall’s lawyer’s office was in the One Congress Plaza building. They met in a conference room overlooking downtown on May 25th. Travers sat on one side of the table, McCall and his lawyer, Gerald Woodfield, on the other.
Travers began by questioning McCall about any recent contact with Joe Harlan Jr. McCall claimed to have had none since leaving Austin, other than through his lawyer in connection with the lawsuit.
Travers then asked about contact with the Wises. McCall replied that those were even further removed. His last contact with Kristy preceded the rape case. And, he had never had any contact with Debra or Tom.
Travers next read through a prepared list of names, asking McCall to tell him if he was familiar with any of them. This was the list of boat owners from the marina. He watched McCall as he went through the list. Travers knew that it was unlikely that McCall would know any of them, though he needed to be sure. Reading through the list also gave Travers a chance to see how McCall responded when being totally honest. He wanted to be in the best position to judge McCall’s reaction when he asked about Cruise and Kim. He saved those two names for the end.