Deadly Guild (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 3)

by Renee Pawlish

  “A cop?” Rizzo frowned. “That’s not good.”

  I nodded agreement.

  Rizzo rubbed his chin. “But what would that guy have to do with a homeless vet who was killed?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

  Rizzo nodded. “All right, keep me posted.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I know you want to keep on this, but you make sure you get some rest, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He picked up the phone, and we left his office.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Back at my desk, Oakley said, “I’ll start looking through our records to see if I can find unsolved murders where cheap jewelry was found with the victim.” The office was quiet, someone on the phone in another room, then silence. Oakley glanced at my desk, as if looking for inspiration. He wasn’t going to find it there.

  “Searching our records is going to be a needle in a haystack.” I gestured at my laptop. “Email your contacts throughout the state to see if what we have fits with any of their unsolved cases, and I’ll do the same.”

  Oakley was nodding his head as he went to the coffeemaker. He poured a cup and drank some, then winced. “Gawd, how long has it been sitting there?”

  “Try sugar and cream.”

  “Nothing will save that.” He tossed the cup into the trash.

  “I’m not as picky, I guess.”

  That barely drew a smile. He was worried. “I’ll do some research on the jewelry found with both victims. It looks like cheap crap, bet you can buy it at Walmart, places like that. There’s no way we’ll be able to trace a purchase back to a buyer. That’s a needle in a haystack.”

  “Too bad.” I eyed him. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I need to follow up with Lola, the woman I saw at the Princeton Motel.” I glanced at my watch. “She should be on her shift soon, so I might get a bite to eat, then head down there. Let me know what you find out about any other unsolved cases.”

  Oakley left, and I took a few minutes to email some contacts I had in other departments around the state. I described the details of our two cases and asked them to contact me if they had any similar murder cases. I was about to head for my car, when Ernie hurried into the room.

  “You’re not gonna believe this,” he said as he sat down. He looked at me and wagged a finger. “Were you about to leave?”

  “I was going to the Diamond Club.”

  “Save it for a bit.”

  “What? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “You know the guy that Nicole Lockwood was seeing? The older man?” I nodded. He took a dramatic pause. “I got his name.”

  I threw up a hand. “Spill it.”

  “Arnold. I guess she called him Arnie.” He gazed at me triumphantly. “I found out from another of Nicole’s friends, Lynn Richards. She saw Nicole talking to him. He was a Commerce City cop. She saw him in his cruiser, if you can believe that, somewhere near the high school. Nicole tried to blow it off, tried to make it not a big deal, but Lynn was sure she heard Nicole call him Arnie, and she teased Nicole about him.”

  “You don’t happen to have a last name?”

  “Don’t harsh my buzz,” he said.

  I arched an eyebrow at that. “Harsh your buzz? Is that what the kids say these days?”

  He laughed. “There can’t be that many Arnolds that were working with the Commerce City Police Department a few years ago. I’ll make some phone calls, see what I can find out.”

  “When did this happen? Could Lynn pinpoint a timeframe?”

  “Springtime.” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  I grinned at him. “Still, that’s good work.”

  “Yeah, I get wood on the bat sometimes.”

  “You are just full of clichés at the moment.”

  That got a laugh out of him. Then he picked up the phone and dialed, and as he did, he looked up at me. “Fill me in on what you’ve been doing.”

  “Oh, there’s a lot.”

  He held up a finger. “Hold on a second. I got a contact with the department, I’ll see what he can tell me.” I took a seat and listened as he talked to somebody at the Commerce City Police Department. He nodded his head a few times and jotted down some notes. Then he hung up the phone. “We’re in luck. My friend says there’s one cop there, Arnold Culbertson. He’s been on the department for a little over five years. My friend says he’s a good cop.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said. I turned to my laptop. “Let’s see what we can find on him.”

  “Here’s his picture,” Ernie said, after only a few seconds. He turned his laptop around and showed me.

  “Nice looking guy.”

  “I’m telling Harry you said that.”

  “I can look,” I replied. I went to my favorite people-search site. “He’s married, and possibly has a couple of young daughters, based on the ages listed here. If he was seeing an underage girl …” I left the rest unsaid.

  Ernie shrugged. “We don’t have any proof he knew her, let alone that he slept with her. It’s not a crime until that happens.”

  “I know.” I drummed the desk with my fingers for a minute. “It’s all circumstantial. We could go talk to Arnie, see if we can stir him up and get some information. What if we’re wrong, though? We could be damaging his career, or worse. Who knows what he might do.”

  Ernie stared across his desk at me. “We’re just talking to him at this point. If we’re wrong, he goes on his merry way and no one knows but him and us.” I still hesitated. “I don’t like thinking another cop would do this, but we have to check it out. What if he was seeing Nicole back then, and now he’s worried that someone found out, and he does away with her to keep the secret?”

  It took me a moment to answer. “I guess I better go talk to him, and I can head to the strip club later.”

  He stood up and hefted up his pants. “I’m going with you. My friend said Arnie’s off today, and it’s about dinnertime, so maybe we catch him at home.”

  I checked the computer and wrote down Arnie’s address. “Come on, then.”

  We didn’t speak much on the drive to Arnie’s house, a newer two-story house near Interstate 76. The neighborhood was tucked between a more rundown part of the city and the Rocky Mountain Arsenal, a wildlife refuge that was once a chemical weapons manufacturing center.

  “Nice-looking house,” Ernie said as I parked behind a white truck.

  We heard the steady hum of traffic in the distance when we got out. As we went up the walk, we heard kids in the backyard, yelling and playing. I rang the bell and we waited. It was almost six, dinnertime for most people, and I hoped Arnie would be home. A moment later, a man with a solid build, square shoulders, and brown hair cropped short opened the door. He looked slightly older than the picture Ernie had shown me, his jaw more pronounced.

  “Are you Arnold Culbertson?” Ernie asked him.

  Arnie’s startling blue eyes went from Ernie to me. “Yeah, what’s going on?”

  I introduced Ernie and myself, and we showed him our badges. His eyes narrowed.

  From another room, a feminine voice called out, “Arnie? What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing,” he called over his shoulder.

  Arnie stepped onto the porch and closed the door. “Again, what’s going on?” He was smart and knew that two homicide detectives coming to talk to him probably wasn’t something good. Not something he wanted the woman, presumably his wife, to hear.

  “Do you know Nicole Lockwood?” I asked.

  He went pale, then quickly recovered himself. “Nicole who? I don’t know any Nicole.”

  Ernie glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He shifted slightly, to look eye to eye with Arnie, and I let him do the talking.

  “Arnie, right?” Ernie asked, playing friendly to get Arnie to relax. “Are you sure about that?” Ernie played up his bemusement. “That’s not the information I have.”

  Arnie crossed his arms, his biceps bulging, and glared at Ernie
. “I’m not sure who you got your information from, but it’s wrong.” There was a clear challenge in his voice.

  “You didn’t see Nicole about three, four years ago? She would’ve been about sixteen. You saw her near the Adams City High School.”

  “Not me,” Arnie said.

  Ernie scratched his chin. “That’s so funny. I have at least two witnesses who saw you talking to Nicole. You were in your cruiser, and it was at the end of the school day.”

  “Not me,” Arnie repeated.

  “You’re sure? If it was you, it’d be better to talk to us.”

  Arnie’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know what this is about, and I don’t like what you’re implying. I think you need to leave now.” He pointed toward the street.

  I stepped in. “Nicole Lockwood was murdered last night. What do you know about that?”

  Arnie wasn’t giving us anything. “I don’t know this Nicole, so I don’t know anything about her death.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “I was here all night, my wife could tell you that.”

  “What do you know about the Princeton Motel?”

  The muscles in his jaw moved. “Nothing.”

  “Do you know Jonathan Hall?” I started to describe him, and Arnie cut me off.

  “No.”

  Ernie glanced toward the door. “May we talk to your wife?”

  Arnie shook his head. “Get out of here.” With that, he whirled around and stormed back in his house. The door banged shut.

  “That went well,” Ernie said.

  I pondered Arnie’s reaction for several seconds. “What do you think?”

  “He knows her.”

  “That’s what I think, too.” I pushed his elbow. “Let’s go. We have some calls to make.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  We went back to my car and got in. Ernie squinted through the windshield. “I’ll bet he’s pissing his pants right now,” he said. “For his sake, I hope he didn’t do it. But if he did …” He left the rest unsaid. He was angry, mad that a man, and a cop no less, could take advantage of a teenager. I was just as furious.

  “What’d you think when I asked him if he knew Jonathan Hall?”

  He popped a cigar in his mouth and chewed on it. “He was in robot mode. You could’ve asked him if the sky is blue, and he would’ve said no.”

  I nodded. “We certainly stirred things up. Now let’s see where this leads.” I pulled out my cell phone and looked up the Commerce City Police Department. I dialed a number and asked to speak to the chief, Ken Grafton.

  “Let me call Rizzo, tell him what’s up,” Ernie said.

  I gave him a thumbs up as I held the phone to my ear, then had to explain that I was a homicide detective from another department and that I was calling about an important matter. I was finally connected.

  “I’m Homicide Detective Sarah Spillman with the Denver Police Department.”

  “How may I help you?” Chief Grafton spoke quickly, a man who didn’t mince words.

  I got right to the point as well. “I have reason to believe that an officer with your department, Arnie Culbertson, had a relationship approximately three years ago with an underage girl, who was then murdered last night.”

  Dead silence, and then he swore. “You’re sure about this?”

  I nodded as if he could see me. “I believe so. We interviewed several of the vic’s friends from high school, and one says the vic was seeing a cop named Arnie. This person says she’s sure he was with the Commerce City Police Department. She saw him in his cruiser.”

  Ernie was telling Rizzo the same thing, and I turned toward the window so Grafton wouldn’t hear that conversation. I had a good view of Arnie’s house. I wondered what he was doing at that moment.

  “Worst case scenario is they talk to him, and it turns out to be nothing,” Ernie was saying to Rizzo.

  I went on with Chief Grafton. “We tried to talk to Arnie, and he clammed up. My sense is he’s not telling us everything. He knows the vic, for sure.”

  A guttural sigh ripped through the phone. “I’ll give Arnie a call as soon as we hang up. We have to get to the bottom of this right away. These are serious allegations.”

  “I know.”

  “Since this involves an investigation of yours, if you want to come down to the station and formally interview Arnie here, I’m okay with that. I’ll have another detective sit in.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it.” I was pleased that he wasn’t trying to hinder my investigation.

  “I don’t like these kind of allegations,” he said. “Not at all. If one of my cops is dirty, I want to get it taken care of.”

  “I certainly understand that.”

  I told him that my partner and I would come down to the station soon, and I ended the call. I stared at Arnie’s house.

  Ernie ended his call with Rizzo and glanced at me. “Well?”

  “Chief Grafton is sending someone to pick up Arnie. Things will move fast from here. What did Rizzo say? You know darn well Grafton’s calling Rizzo to make sure we’re on the up and up.”

  Ernie nodded and put an elbow on the door. “Let him. We’re not the ones who messed up.” I shifted to look at him, and he went on. “Rizzo is hoping we’re wrong about Arnie, but he assured me that if Grafton calls him, he’ll have our backs.”

  “Good,” I said.

  We watched Arnie’s house for a minute. Some kids were playing in the yard across the street, and a woman walked her dog past his house. Then Arnie’s garage door opened. A black truck backed out of the garage, Arnie at the wheel. He peeled away from the house, oblivious to us.

  “Grafton didn’t waste any time,” Ernie said.

  I put the key in the ignition. “I’m sure he told Arnie to report to the station pronto. And if Arnie’s lying, like I think he is, he’s in a full panic.”

  Ernie gestured at the road. “Let’s get down there, too.”

  Half an hour later, Ernie, Culbertson, and another detective, Hank Wesley, were sitting with me at a rectangular table in a drab interview room at the Commerce City police station. A conspicuous camera was suspended in the corner of the room, which, by the way, smelled of disinfectant. Arnie was across from me, his hands on the table, a defiant look on his face. Tension hung like a black cloud over us.

  Wesley glanced at all of us, then cleared his throat. He was heavyset, with a round face, wide eyes, his expression neutral. He noted the date and time, and who everyone was for the record, and then stated that I would be conducting the interview. He gestured for me to begin. He and Ernie stayed quiet and let me do the talking.

  I looked across at Culbertson. “I really wish we didn’t have to be here under these circumstances, but I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this.” My try for casual wasn’t working. He stared at me, expressionless. “Probably just a misunderstanding.” Still nothing, so I went on. “I went to your house earlier tonight, with my partner Ernie Moore,” I motioned at Ernie. “Do you recall this?”

  “Yes.”

  “At that time, we asked you if you had any knowledge of a woman named Nicole Lockwood. Do you recall what your answer was?”

  “I told you then, and I’m telling you now, I don’t know who that is.” Arnie had ice in his eyes.

  “A few years ago, were you ever at Adams City High School?”

  “Do you have a specific date?”

  “Springtime.”

  His eyes flickered with caution. “I drive a patrol car. I’m at a lot of places at a lot of different times. I couldn’t tell you if I was around the high school or not.”

  “So you’re not denying it?” I asked.

  “Nor am I confirming it,” he replied.

  “Do you know Lynn Richards?” I went on.

  “No.”

  “Have you ever been to the Princeton Motel?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you own a .22?”

  “No.”

  “Where were you early
this morning, say one a.m.?”

  “I was at home in bed. My wife can confirm it.”

  More than a yes or no answer. He was sure of that one. Or at least sure his wife could lie for him.

  I kept going. “Were you on the Platte River on Wednesday night last week, anywhere between midnight and five a.m.?”

  Surprise crossed his face, then disappeared. “I was at home, sleeping. Again, my wife can confirm it.” He shifted in his chair, the legs scraping the tile floor with a screech.

  I stared at him for a moment. He didn’t blink. “Do you know Jonathan Hall?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you own any hunting knives?”

  “No.”

  He was careful in all his answers, not giving me anything. “To reiterate, you deny knowing Nicole Lockwood or Jonathan Hall?”

  “That’s right.”

  I thought long and hard. The room was quiet. Arnie held my gaze. I finally put my hands on the table. “You know what I think?” He stared at me. “You were with Nicole when she was just a kid, and for a while, no one knew. But recently, someone discovered what happened. You’re worried about your career, so you find her and take her out. Or you paid to have someone take her out. Then she can’t say anything.”

  He blinked at me and remained silent. I thought I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.

  “Care to comment?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I should’ve seen that coming.

  I glanced at Ernie, and he subtly signaled he didn’t have anything else to add. Arnie stared at me, his tight jaw betraying his anger. I looked over at Wesley and jerked my head toward the door.

  “I’ll be with you in a minute,” Wesley said to Arnie. He stood up, as well as Ernie and I, and we went into the hall.

  “What do you think?” Wesley asked. A detective walked past and gave a curt nod to Wesley. Wesley barely noticed.

  Ernie and I exchanged a glance.