by C. M. Sutter
As I lay in bed that night, the cases spun through my mind like a revolving door. Mitch Blass was looking good for his wife’s murder unless the footage told us otherwise. That left Charlotte and Jeff as our most recent victims, and Charlotte’s murder would be the most difficult to solve since we didn’t know that she was actually targeted. I rolled over, punched my pillow, and willed myself to sleep.
I woke the next morning to Bandit whining inches from my face. He could go outside by using the doggy door if he needed to, so I chalked it up to him being hungry or wanting to play—probably both. I climbed out of bed, and with my robe and slippers on, I stumbled down the hall to the kitchen with Bandit leading the way. He wolfed down his bowl of kibbles, and I knew he was content for the time being. I started the coffee and hit the shower.
On the road by 7:35, I called Lutz’s office phone to see if he’d arrived yet. He answered on the second ring.
“Boss, it’s Jesse.”
“Morning, McCord. You on your way?”
“Yep. Has anyone told you about the call that came in last night from the anonymous tipster?”
“About seeing a car that matched Mitch Blass’s?”
“Right. Do you know if Tech has worked on it yet?”
“Gaines called me just before you did. He says Tech didn’t see any car like that passing by on the footage.”
“So the camera doesn’t reach the road?”
“It does, but they said no white car drove by twice, and as a matter of fact, the only cars at all belonged to the customers leaving the store.”
“Huh? How does that work? The caller identified Blass’s car to a T.”
“Don’t know. We’ll have Todd walk us through it when everyone gets here.”
Hanging up, I felt completely deflated. I would have to see that footage myself before I believed anybody else’s account.
I reached the precinct just as Mills parked his truck. He lit a cigarette while he waited for me to park and get out.
“Get any sleep, buddy?” He took in a long pull, making the end glow orange, then he blew the smoke out through his nose.
“Yeah, I slept okay, but now I’m spun up.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Go on.”
“I called Lutz as I was driving, and Tech said there wasn’t any car on the surveillance footage that drove by twice or matched the caller’s description.”
“Mustn’t catch the entire road.”
I nodded. “That’s what I thought, too, but Lutz said that wasn’t the case. Todd told him there literally wasn’t a car on the street that circled MaxMart’s lot twice. The only cars were ones that exited the lot and turned left to get to the main street.”
“Then how could the caller give such an exact description of Mitch’s car? Unless—”
I snapped my head toward Mills. “Unless what?”
“Unless they got the night wrong or somebody is trying to frame Mitch.”
“That still doesn’t explain why he lied about the guns and knives.” I let out a long groan as Frank pulled open the door then flicked his cigarette behind the snow-covered shrubbery. “I hope I have some ibuprofen in my desk.”
“If you don’t, I’ve got plenty.”
Chapter 32
I was excited to get through the roll call and updates and head down to our tech department. Something had to be wrong. Maybe the store had sent an earlier or even a later segment of the security footage by mistake, or maybe they sent the wrong day altogether. I barely heard my name called until Frank elbowed me.
“Here,” I yelled. Lutz knew full well I was there, but protocol stated that each of us had to respond when our name was called. I didn’t hear the updates, and none of it mattered at the moment. Besides, our morning updates were usually about department policy—the type of rhetoric I rarely paid attention to. I wanted to get to the meat and potatoes.
As soon as Lutz wrapped up our morning meeting, I bolted from the room. He, Frank, Shawn, and Henry followed me down the two flights of stairs to our tech department. I burst through the door and called out Todd’s name.
“Todd, I need to see the footage MaxMart sent over last night. If it shows the street, and that car didn’t drive by during that window of time, then they must have sent the wrong footage.”
Todd shook his head. “The time stamp on the recording is correct.”
“How can that be? The caller described Mitch’s car in detail and said it showed up on that frontage road only minutes before the crime was committed. I need to see the recording for myself.”
“Sure, it’s set up and ready to go. Have a seat at my workstation, and the rest of you can crowd around. I want all of you to see what I’m saying for yourselves. There isn’t any car on the footage that matches the description the caller gave Gaines.”
I took Todd’s seat, and the rest of the group crowded at my back. Todd started the footage at the nine thirty mark. I double-checked the date and time stamp at the bottom right corner of the screen, and it was correct. The footage was able to reach the frontage road that led in and out of the parking lot, although the farther out the image was, the darker and blurrier it became. Still, I didn’t see that car either. Todd slowed the footage, zoomed in as close as possible, and enhanced it as much as he could—nothing changed. Other than the cars leaving the lot, and none matched the description given by the caller, there wasn’t a single car that the camera caught twice.
“Did Gaines leave already? Maybe he wrote down the description wrong.”
Henry confirmed that Chuck had left, but Chuck had told him he’d written down what the caller had said verbatim.
“Maybe the caller was actually there Saturday night but thought it was Sunday night.”
Lutz scratched his forehead. “That’s a possibility, Jesse, but there’s no way to get back to that caller. They didn’t give their contact information to Gaines.”
“But all incoming calls are recorded. Let’s listen to it and see if their statement is exactly like Gaines wrote down.”
I asked Todd to email me the footage and apologized for getting so riled up. We headed to the bullpen to track down the tip-line call Gaines took last night. I stood at his desk and looked at the notes he had taken.
“Here’s what he wrote.” I took a seat and read what he had jotted down. It was exactly as it should have been. Right date, right time, and right description of the car. I walked to the rear of the bullpen, where the tip-line phones were located, and backed up the recordings. I had no idea how many calls came in before, or after, the one we needed, and I didn’t want to go through dozens of incoming calls. I yelled out to Henry. “Call Gaines before he hits the sheets and tell him I need to know how many calls came in after the one about the white Sentra. That’ll give me an idea of how far to back up the recordings.”
I poured a cup of coffee while Henry talked to Chuck. The call was over by the time I had stirred the creamer into my cup.
“Okay, Chuck said there were five more calls that came in after that one. He suggested backing up the computer’s scrubber bar by a few minutes and then listening in. It’ll be the caller that said they wanted to stay anonymous as soon as Chuck asked for their name.”
I moved the scrubber bar to the left on the computer that was attached to the recording device. I was sure I’d have to make several back-and-forth attempts before I zeroed in on the right caller. It didn’t take too long—less than ten minutes—and I’d found it. Word by word and sentence by sentence, I listened to the caller’s account of Sunday night. They had mentioned wanting to get back home before the end of the football game.
Frank offered his input. “I guess it had to be Sunday night given that football was on. Even Mitch’s alibi was about sitting at home watching the game.”
I listened to the call several times. “Is there something unusual about the caller’s voice, or am I imagining it?”
“Unusual how?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t really put my
finger on it. It isn’t muffled, but it isn’t clear either. It almost sounds echoey.”
Henry agreed the voice did sound odd. “Going from a phone into a recording device and getting played back on a computer may have something to do with it.”
“Or the caller was using a voice-changing app.”
Frank chuckled. “Now you’re really grasping at straws.”
“I don’t think so.” I returned to my desk and called Todd. “Hey, buddy, can you come up to the bullpen for a minute? There’s something you need to hear.” I hung up, and Frank rolled his eyes at me.
“You’re serious?”
“Hell yeah I am. That voice isn’t normal, and what you said might be true. Maybe Jill’s killer was really somebody who’s after Mitch, and killing her was their way of getting their point across. Now they want to frame Blass for it.” I noticed Frank’s expression change. His wheels had obviously started to turn.
“The kids did say he complained about money. Maybe he got involved with a get-rich-quick scheme that backfired on him.”
“Or even worse,” I said. “It could have been an illegal debt he couldn’t repay, so they threatened his and Jill’s lives. That could be when he took out the life insurance policies in case one of them was killed. Now that Jill is dead, they may come after him unless he repays that debt with the insurance claim.”
“Wow. That sounds like a made-for-TV crime thriller.”
“I know, but it is possible.”
The door from the back hallway opened, and Todd walked in. “Whatcha got, Jesse?”
“Have a seat and listen to this recording. It’s the call about the white Sentra.”
“Sure.”
Todd sat next to me, and I pressed Play. The message began again with Chuck’s voice sounding perfectly normal, then the caller began talking. I noted Todd’s expression as soon as he heard the caller speak. His brows furrowed, and his forehead creased.
“That’s definitely voice-altering software.”
I slapped my hands together. “I knew it! Now I need to find out who made that call, why they’re making up shit to frame Mitch, and why they’re altering their voice.”
“Those kind of calls are made over a Wi-Fi network.”
“So we can’t track the phone?”
“No, but we can find the Wi-Fi location, or at least the general area the call came from. I can pull that information off the network’s IP address. If the call didn’t come from a private home, then there’s a good chance that an entire office building or a bank of computers is using that IP address.”
I remembered having that very situation when we tried to set up multiple accounts on the SingleChicagoProfessionals website right from the bullpen. It locked us out because all the log-ins had come from the same IP address. Todd had just told me something I actually understood.
“How long will it take to pinpoint the area?”
He shrugged. “Not sure, but I can start on it now.”
I didn’t know where that would get us, but hopefully, we would be able to track down Jill’s killer with technology. For now, we needed more information from Mitch Blass.
Chapter 33
I had the name and phone number of Blass’s attorney in my desk drawer. We needed a sit-down with Mitch, and his lawyer had to be present. I was going to give him a choice—come clean or spend the rest of his life in prison. We would arrest him and charge him with murder, and he’d remain in our custody until his arraignment was scheduled.
After making the call, I explained to the attorney that we needed him at our precinct’s jail as soon as possible. He said to give him thirty minutes, and I took that time to update Lutz.
I knocked on his half-opened door, and he waved me in and offered me a seat.
“What’s up, Jesse?”
“A theory and another interview with Blass in about a half hour.”
Lutz set his reading glasses on the desk, pinched the sides of his nose, then gave me his attention. “Go ahead.”
“It’s been established that the white Sentra sighting was fake. The caller knows Mitch’s vehicle and obviously knew where Jill worked.”
Lutz agreed. “That makes sense.”
“So, my question is, was the caller actually the killer? Maybe Jill’s death was meant as a warning to Mitch. He might be mixed up in something he can’t get out of.”
“Involving money?”
“Probably. His kids said Mitch and Jill fought about money, and the only reason she went back to work was because he insisted. Coincidentally, he took out life insurance policies on both of them at that time. Could somebody have been threatening their lives and then killed Jill because Mitch still hadn’t paid back his debt? Maybe they figure they’ll get what he owes them from the life insurance policy.”
“That’s pretty morbid thinking, Jesse.”
“But possible.”
“And the lawyer is on his way?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’ll have Bill call me when he arrives, and then I’ll come and get you. This is a meeting we both need to be a part of.”
“Thanks, Boss.” I got up and headed to the bullpen. I glanced at the back of the room and saw that Todd had taken all the equipment with him to the tech department. I hoped he had the right technology in his arsenal to figure out where that call came from.
Twenty minutes later, Lutz showed up in the bullpen. “Bill said the attorney just arrived. It’ll be another five minutes before he puts Mitch in box one.”
“Okay. I’ve made a list of questions to ask him, specifically if anyone had a beef with him, if he’s involved in any illegal activities that are now coming back to bite him in the ass, if he or Jill has recently been threatened, and the real reason he took out life insurance on both of them, especially when the kids say he’s pinched for money.”
“All good questions, but we also need to throw some guilt his way. You said that neither of his kids are twenty-one yet?”
“That’s right.”
“Then he should be concerned about them since they aren’t legal adults. He’s responsible for their welfare, so hopefully, we can get to him with that.”
I looked at Frank. “Text me if you hear something from Todd before we return.” I tipped my head toward the door. “Shall we?”
Lutz and I took the back stairs to our lower-level jail wing. From a distance, I saw a man who I assumed was Attorney Jacobs sitting on a chair in the waiting area. We’d be waiting alongside him until Bill had Mitch situated in the box.
We exchanged introductions, and Bill appeared from the hallway.
“Mr. Blass is in interrogation room one.”
“Thanks, Bill.”
I led the way past the observation room to the second door—box one. Mitch, already seated, faced the one-way mirror. His attorney took a seat next to him, and Lutz and I sat down and faced them. I placed the folder of questions on the table with my pen next to it. Blass gave it a quick look but kept silent.
“Okay, so why the meeting?” The attorney glanced at his watch. “Isn’t your hold on my client over with yet?”
“Not when he’s our prime suspect,” I fired back.
“What? I told you I had nothing to do with Jill’s death!”
“Shhh, Mitch, keep quiet. You hired me to speak on your behalf, remember?” The attorney continued. “So, what proof do you have that implicates my client?”
“New evidence, and that’s the reason for this meeting. It’s come to light from a tip-line caller that Mitch’s car was spotted circling the MaxMart parking lot just minutes before Jill was knifed to death.” I locked eyes with Blass. “Yet your client says he was at home watching football, but he has nobody who can corroborate his alibi.”
“Was the caller deemed to be a reliable source?”
“The caller chose to remain anonymous,” Lutz said.
Jacobs chuckled. “Then you have nothing.” He reached for his briefcase.
“Not so fast.” I stared at Mitc
h again. “We interviewed your kids yesterday. Funny how their account of Jill going back to work differs from yours.”
The attorney huffed. “I don’t have time for riddles, Detective McCord. Get to the point.”
“The point is, Mitch forced Jill to return to work because they were tight on money.” I glared at Mitch. “According to your kids, you and Jill fought often about finances.”
Jacobs held up his hand. “Either talk to me, or I’ll end this meeting.”
“Fine. I’ll make it crystal clear for both of you, then. He comes clean and tells us what is really going on, why he bought life insurance policies, and why somebody said his car was at the murder scene, or we arrest him for Jill’s murder and I’ll make sure his arraignment isn’t scheduled for months. Don’t forget, he’s still responsible for Lisa and Skyler’s tuition. With him being in jail, they’ll have to drop out of college and either live with another relative, which I’m sure would be a burden, or go get jobs and try to support themselves without ending up on the street. Feel me, Attorney Jacobs?”
He raised his brow at Blass. “They can arrest and charge you.”
Mitch growled. “Fine! What’s in it for me?”
I laughed. “Really? You’ll have the chance to prove you didn’t kill your wife, unless you really are guilty.”
“I’m not!” he yelled.
“Then you’ll have the opportunity to be a dad to your kids again, otherwise nothing.”
Lutz picked up where I left off. “This is your only chance to talk, Blass. Clear your name or sit in prison for life, because as of now, you’re the only suspect.”
He let out a long breath and began. “We were hurting for money, and I’ll admit I was to blame. Jill deserved to retire, and we could afford it until I started playing poker with the guys. I’d played in tournaments in the past and thought I was pretty good. Over time, my bets got bigger and bigger, and pretty soon, I was introduced to some characters who played for huge stakes. I figured even if I won a hundred bucks a week, it would get me out of the money pinch I’d created. They were a bad crowd, and I kept getting deeper and deeper in debt. The buy-in was over my budget, so they floated it and said I could pay them back with my winnings—but I never won again. Pretty soon, I was so over my head I had to take out a home equity loan just to handle my bills and cover Lisa and Skyler’s tuition. Of course, when they called in the loans, I couldn’t pay them back, so they began to threaten my life. I was relieved that the kids were in college and out of harm’s way, but after they roughed me up a few times, they threatened to go after Jill. I couldn’t tell her what was going on. She would have divorced me for sure.” Mitch wiped his eyes and continued. “I thought giving them some of that money would hold them off for a while, but I took out the life insurance policies for protection, anyway. I figured if they killed me, Jill would have enough money to pay off the debt and be rid of them once and for all.”