“Yes,” says Santos. “I saw the news last night before going to work and I might have seen the man you’re looking for.”
“When do you think you saw him?”
“Early in the morning last Saturday when I was getting home from work.”
“Where do you work?”
“At the Donut Stop on Bell road. I work nights making fresh donuts for the following day.”
“What time did you get off work last Saturday?”
“Around three-thirty in the morning. It takes me about fifteen minutes to get home.”
“Okay, so when you got home, what did you see?”
“As I was pulling up, I see a man in dark clothing and dark hat walk up to a car parked across from my house. He looks like he’s hurt, which I thought was strange. He then gets into the car and drives off.”
“Why did you think he was hurt?”
“He was holding his left arm and appeared to be in pain.”
“Can you give us any further description?”
“Yes, he was a white male, big man, with a dark beard. Like what you are looking for.”
“What kind of hat?”
“Just what you are looking for, a knit pullover hat.”
“Any glasses?”
“I don’t remember him wearing glasses.”
“Mrs. Santos, this is important,” interjects Jackson. “Have you ever seen this person before last Saturday?”
“No, I don’t recall ever seeing him before.”
Jackson continues, “What about his car? Can you describe it?”
“I don’t know cars very well, but it was definitely very dark-colored. I think it had four doors, not a real big car.”
“Thank you Mrs. Santos, you’ve been a big help. Juan, you got anything else?”
“Yes. Did you notice if he walked with a limp?”
“I can’t say, as he was kind of hunched over holding his left arm. He was in a hurry, I know that.”
“Okay, thank you for your time. If you see or hear anything else, please give us a call.” Garcia hands her his business card.
“We now know for sure our suspect is a large white male with a beard,” confirms Jackson as they drive back to the station. “And he drives a dark-colored four-door sedan.”
“Probably also has a limp,” adds Garcia. “Not everyone would notice that.”
“True,” Jackson agrees.
Back in the office, Garcia is starting to feel confident they are close to identifying the Candy Man Killer. He expects at any time now they will get word on a DNA match for the suspect. He can hardly wait to put handcuffs on this brutal serial killer.
That evening at home, Garcia is sharing the update on the case with Rosa. Rosa can tell he is encouraged over developments in the case and that the Candy Man Killer will soon be identified. She is also concerned over Ricci’s injury and thinks it is too bad he has not been able to participate in the latest developments.
“That’s a shame Ricci has not been available this week,” Rosa says with empathy. “Having been involved for all the murders from day one has to be hard on him.”
“I thought of that too,” answers Garcia. “But he will be back on Thursday for light duty. I’m sure he would like to be there for any arrest.”
“What a coincidence,” says Rosa, “he gets injured the same day your suspect gets injured. It’s a shame really, and what are the odds?”
“Yes, it is a shame. I know Mike wants to be there.”
Later that night, Garcia lies awake in bed thinking about the recent developments in the case. Furthermore, he can’t get his wife’s comment about the strange coincidence of Ricci getting cut the same day the suspect got cut. He knows it’s just a coincidence, but it’s a strange circumstance. He knows there is no way Ricci is involved, and certainly does not fit the description, other than being big and right-handed. And he doesn’t walk with a limp. We need to get that DNA match and get this over with, thinks Garcia.
On Wednesday morning, Jackson tells Garcia that Nathan Smith, aka Snowman, has been located. He was picked up on a street corner in the North Lawndale neighborhood and transported to the station for questioning.
“We now know he doesn’t fit our suspect description,” states Garcia, “he’s black.”
“Sure, but we can’t assume anything,” cautions Jackson. “We only have descriptions, some vague, on a few of the cases. You never know. It’s good to be thorough.”
“You’re right, of course,” agrees Garcia.
Nathan Smith, aka Snowman, is waiting in an interview room where everything can be recorded. After introductions and a few friendly exchanges, the detectives get down to business.
“So,” says Jackson, “I understand you had some dispute with Jimmy Johnson, or should I say JJ?”
“Nothing that would cause me to kill him,” protests Smith.
“Just tell us what the dispute was about.”
“He thought I was taking some of his customers away.”
“Were you?”
“No, not at all. I don’t sell anymore.”
Jackson laughs, “we are well past that Nathan. We know you sell, so stop the charade. We are only interested in your involvement in JJ’s death.”
“There’s no involvement,” protests Smith.
“You were at his house the night he got killed.”
“No I wasn’t, and you have no proof of that.”
“Then why did you run off and hide?”
“Because I heard you were after me and didn’t want to be arrested for something I didn’t do”
Jackson and Garcia continue to interview Smith for another 30 minutes, trying to get him to admit to some knowledge or involvement in JJ’s murder. They aren’t sure if Smith’s DNA is in the database, so with his consent, they take several swabs of the inside of his mouth to submit to the lab. He is then free to go.
Mid-afternoon Garcia gets a call from Cindy Cross. “I have news about your DNA.”
“Great,” says Garcia, “who’s our guy?”
“Nobody.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is no match in either the state or national database,” advises Cross. “Whoever our killer is, he’s never been arrested on a felony charge before.”
Garcia is heartbroken. “I don’t believe this.”
Garcia breaks the news to Jackson.
“It’s not unheard of,” responds Jackson. “There have been plenty of serial killers who had never been arrested prior to starting their killing spree, at least for nothing serious.”
“Yeah, but we are so close, yet still so far now.” Garcia has a sick feeling in his stomach. How much more of this can our neighborhoods endure?
On Thursday, Ricci returns to work with his left hand heavily bandaged up past his wrist. As typical, he has a large Dunkin Donuts coffee in his right hand.
“That’s one big bandage,” observes Garcia.
“Yeah, doc says I cut it pretty good and have to keep it immobile until Friday. Then physical therapy starts on Monday.”
“Well, it’s good to have you back, Mike.”
“Good to be back.”
The sight of Ricci’s injured left hand gets Garcia thinking again of the conversation he had with Rosa about the coincidence of Mike getting injured. He also remembers previous comments made by Mike about his disdain for dealers. Could Mike be…..no, no way. Just get that out of my mind right now. He looks nothing like our suspect description, the exception being he is over six feet. And he certainly has no trouble walking.
“Did you hear about the DNA?” asks Garcia.
“No,” Ricci responds, “did we get a match?”
“No, no database match.”
“Damn,” says Ricci, “we just can’t catch a break, can we?”
Garcia and Ricci spend the rest of the day again reviewing reports and interviews, looking for any tidbit they may have missed. They also go through the tips received of men matching the description put
out in the media. Officers are dispatched to follow-up on each tip, then contact cards are filled out and forwarded to detectives. DNA swabs have been obtained from several of those men who looked most like the description, but none of the samples have yet matched the suspect DNA.
As Ricci and Garcia are leaving for the evening, Garcia says his usual goodbye as Ricci is getting into his car. Garcia continues to his car and then it hits him. Another coincidence. Ricci drives a dark blue, Chevy Malibu four-door sedan. Ricci has always known this of course, but it never occurred to him it was similar to the description of the suspect vehicle. If I didn’t know better, I’d ask Ricci for a DNA swab, just to clear my mind, he ponders as he drives away.
At home, Garcia shares with Rosa the other coincidence of Ricci driving a car similar to the suspect car.
“I’m sure he has nothing to do with these murders Juan, but maybe you should talk to your Commander?”
“What would I say? Hey, I think my partner might be the Candy Man Killer?”
“I don’t know what you’d say, but you’ve always said you have to look under every rock.”
“This is making me ill Rosa. I feel guilty even thinking it is possible. He’s never done anything illegal, let alone murder someone. Even bringing it up could ruin my career.”
“You’re just stressed out Juan. Everything seems suspicious to you at this point.”
“Maybe you’re right,” agrees Garcia.
The next morning, Friday, Ricci again calls in sick. Garcia does not know if it is related to his ulcer, being tired, or something to do with his hand. He tries to call him but there is no answer.
Garcia continues to be bothered by the coincidences with Ricci and the Candy Man Killer. He finally confides in Jackson.
“I don’t know man, that sounds pretty far-fetched if you ask me,” says a surprised Jackson. “You’re walking on thin ice here. I agree it’s a coincidence, but still.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m hesitant to even bring it up”
“Maybe you should talk privately to the Commander with your concern,” suggests Jackson.
“Thanks Trevon, I’ll think about it. Please don’t say anything.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’m not opening up that bag of snakes,” as he smiles and walks away.
By mid-afternoon, Garcia knows if he doesn’t at least run it by the Commander for his opinion, it will eat at him all weekend. He doesn’t want it to ruin his time with family, so he decides to talk with Commander Marshall.
“Come on in Juan, what’s on your mind?” says the Commander.
“Well sir, this is probably nothing, but you know how much Mike dislikes these drug dealers, right?”
“Sure, don’t we all?”
“Yes, but not to the extent Mike does. He blames them for his daughter’s and wife’s death.”
“We all know the history, what’s your point?”
“Don’t you think it’s quite coincidental that Mike suffered a severe cut on his left hand the same night our killer cut himself? It was the only time our suspect cut himself in eleven attacks. Also, Mike drives a car that matches the description of our suspect car.”
Commander Marshall stares at Garcia for several seconds. Garcia observes Marshall’s jaw tighten up.
“What are you trying to say, Juan?”
“Maybe we should check his DNA just to be absolutely sure it’s all coincidental. I would even allow mine to be checked to show we are simply being thorough.”
Garcia can see the Commander is not pleased.
“Detective Garcia, that is a crazy thought. Mike is one of the best, most decorated, and respected detectives in the Chicago Police Department. For you to even give the slightest hint of suspicion on Mike is insulting. Since when has Mike had a beard or walked with a limp?” he shouts.
“I just want to cover all….”
Commander Marshall cuts him off, “that’s enough. I don’t want to hear any more of this talk and waste of time. Go find the real killer.”
“Yes sir.”
“One more thing detective. If you ever bring this up again I will have you slinging parking tickets in south Chicago. Am I clear?”
“Yes sir, I understand your position.”
“Now get out of here!” shouts the Commander.
Okay, that went well, Garcia thinks as he shuffles back to his desk. The Commander is probably right, what was I thinking anyway. This case is messing with my head.
An hour or so later, Jackson comes by Garcia’s desk and can see he is depressed. “Did you speak to Marshall?”
“Oh yeah,” sighs Garcia. “I may have ruined my career.”
“That bad, eh?”
“He basically threw me out of his office.”
Jackson starts laughing. “I knew that crazy theory wouldn’t get far.”
“Okay, okay stop it,” pleads Garcia as he chuckles a bit himself. “Let’s just focus on what we have to do. Are you still working your contacts? Someone has to know this guy!”
“We are, but I don’t think he’s known to people in these neighborhoods. If he was, we would have him by now. No way a guy who has a distinctive look and walks with a limp is not known if he lives in the area. We aren’t going to find him through my contacts. We need someone from outside the area to recognize a friend, neighbor, anyone who fits the description and give us a call.”
Meanwhile, Ricci has just completed another round of radiation treatment at the oncology center. Ricci is feeling nauseous and weaker than normal after the treatments. He is also experiencing a strange, metal-type taste in his mouth. Ricci has taken an Uber ride to and from the appointment, knowing he might not feel so good afterward. Upon returning home, he lays down and quickly falls asleep.
At home for the weekend, Garcia tells Rosa what had happened with Commander Marshall.
“So that didn’t go over so well,” she comments.
“That’s an understatement. But unfortunately, I still can’t get it out of my mind. Marshall is right, Mike’s reputation is undisputed, and he does not fit the description. Although I have considered our suspect may be using a disguise. It’s not hard to find a realistic-looking fake beard.”
“You need to be careful Juan; I don’t want you losing your career over this.”
“Neither do I, but sometimes what doesn’t make sense in today’s light, makes more sense when you have all the facts. More crimes have been solved on hunches than you might think.”
“So you think he is the Candy Man Killer?”
“Actually no, but I think it’s important to cover all bases, and Mike’s injury and vehicle create one base that isn’t covered. A simple DNA test would satisfy my concern and I could move past this.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know Rosa; I just don’t know yet.”
Garcia wakes up Monday morning and is grateful he had not been called out over the weekend on another Candy Man Killer attack. He gets to the office early to review new leads from callers reporting men who they think fit the description. There are eight new reports.
At 8:20 am, Ricci walks in looking haggard. He looks pale and seems to be moving slower than normal. He sets down his Dunkin Donuts coffee, then takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair before sitting down. His shirt collar is unbuttoned, and he is not wearing a tie.
“How are you feeling Mike?” asks Garcia.
“In all honesty, not so well.”
“Is the ulcer acting up?”
“Yeah, that and haven’t been getting much sleep with this hand and all.”
Garcia suspects he is not getting the entire truth from Ricci. There is something more Ricci isn’t telling him about his physical health.
“Any new leads?” asks Ricci.
“Yes, here are the call-ins we got over the weekend,” says Garcia as he hands the reports to Ricci. “Take a look at these and see if you see any worth following up on.”
At 11:45 am, Ricci asks G
arcia if he wants to go grab some lunch. Garcia refuses, telling Ricci he has a report from last week he needs to finish up.
After Ricci leaves the office, Garcia places his right hand under his desk and pulls on a latex glove. He then looks around to make sure no one is paying attention. He gets up, walks around to Ricci’s desk, and again making sure no one is looking, he reaches into the wastebasket adjacent to Ricci’s desk and pulls out the Dunkin Donuts paper coffee cup Ricci had discarded earlier. He then places the cup in a paper bag and seals it shut before putting it in his briefcase.
Garcia then makes a phone call to Cindy Cross. “Cindy, I have a question for you.”
“Sure, what is it?” asks Cross.
“I have a cup with DNA on it that I believe may be related to our Candy Man Killer case. Can I get this cup to you and have it tested?”
“Sure, do you know who it came from?”
“Not yet,” lies Garcia, “but if it matches, I’m sure I can figure out whose cup this is. There are only a few possibilities.”
“Where did you find the cup?”
“I can’t reveal that yet, but this is important Cindy.”
Cindy pauses for a few seconds. “I can get it to our DNA analyst and have her run it as an unknown and have her compare it to our suspect DNA.”
“That’s great Cindy, thank you. I’ll bring it over right now.”
Garcia heads out the door with his briefcase containing the paper cup, hops into his detective car, and heads for the Chicago Police Forensic Laboratory. While on his drive, Garcia is thinking, if this doesn’t match and anyone finds out what I did, I’ll probably get fired for this.
During the Commander’s case review meeting that afternoon, there is not much new information to share. Some reports of people matching the suspect description continue to filter in, but at a much slower pace than the previous week.
Cross looks at Garcia wondering if he is going to share that he submitted a cup for DNA analysis. Garcia notices her looking at him as she tilts her head as if saying, are you going to mention the cup? Garcia squints his eyes a bit and ever so slightly shakes his head no, hoping she gets the hint. Fortunately, she doesn’t bring it up.
Behind The Lies Page 6