by Randall Dale
Demetrius chuckled. “Yeah. I remember having to write a paper like that too. In fact, it was because of that paper I got interested in becoming a policeman.” He clapped the youngster on the back. “Can you stay for supper?” He placed his arm around both boys’ shoulders and walked them to the front door.
While eating Demetrius detailed the history of the serial rapist case he had spent so much time on several years earlier. It was the case that almost got him fired, but he left that part of the story untold. By the time dessert was served, he’d told everything about the case all the way down to the missing evidence and acquittal.
“We never got a conviction even though everyone knew he was guilty. I think all of Tucson was glad when he moved away.”
Edward had listened intently, asking clarifying questions along the way and Demetrius appreciated the interest of the young man. Everyone got up to carry dirty dishes to the kitchen counter, then the boys sat comfortably in recliners in the living room.
“Do you mind if I ask another question?”
The big detective settled into the chair then pulled the lever and the footrest extended and locked in place with a clunk. “Ask away.”
“You know I’m thinking about becoming a policeman and working my way up to detective. I’d like to be…” he paused in thought, “Well, I’d like to shadow you to see if I like it.” He studied the big man with an expression of earnest pleading.
Demetrius grunted. “We don’t really do that. What I mean is, you couldn’t come to the office and look over my shoulder or anything like that.”
The young man was obviously disappointed. He rubbed the fingers on one hand with the other. “Maybe shadow isn’t the right word. I just want to get a glimpse of what you do and I was wondering what’s happening on Dr. Smallwood’s case. Is there any way you could kind of keep me in the loop without telling me any top-secret specifics?”
The big man thought while drumming his fingers on the armrest. One of the first cardinal rules of police work was to not share any information on any case. He thought for just a moment. He was the kid’s mentor of sorts so what harm could it do to keep him up to date on any progress as long as he didn’t share anything more than what might be reported in the newspaper.
“Hmmm. I don’t know that there are any top-secret specifics and I don’t think it would do any harm to keep you informed of our progress.” He was rewarded with a huge smile from the blonde-haired youngster.
“That would be great. Can I come over every few days so you could fill me in?”
A tiny smile escaped the detective’s lips. As of this afternoon, he was feeling much better about their progress.
“Sure. Just understand I won’t be able to tell you any names of suspects or any people we interview or anything like that, but I’ll be glad to share what we’re doing and if we’re making progress. All I will ask is you keep the information to yourself.”
“Understood.” The boy smiled a huge, genuine smile. “All I know is what I’ve read in the paper and that isn’t much.”
Demetrius chuckled again. “Don’t trust anything you read in the paper. That’s your first lesson.”
“Yes, sir. So what’s happening?”
The big man thought of the progress they’d made that very afternoon. “Well, Dr. Smallwood was killed by a shot to the head with a nine-millimeter bullet. We found the casing and were amazed to find fingerprints there. We tracked the guy down but he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. That had us stumped for a while, but two nights ago there was another murder. It was a homeless man so the press didn’t pay too much attention, but incredibly we found another casing, and guess what?”
Both boys waited on the edge of their chairs. “What?” they asked in unison.
Demetrius smiled. “The same man’s fingerprints. We rounded him up in a hurry, but as before, he was somewhere else and could prove it. We pressed him a lot harder this time so he finally came clean that he had recently sold a nine-millimeter Glock to a young kid, five-foot-eight or so and slightly built. We think that kid is the guy and we’re going to find him.” He pursed his lips in determination.
“How? Do you know his name?”
“Not yet but we’re closing in. We’ve gone through the phone and will start checking all the numbers first thing tomorrow. It’s only a matter of time.”
Demetrius noticed Edward looking at him with an expression of that must have been one of awe. Finally, the young man spoke. “Wow. Is that the way it always is?”
“Not always but we got a break on this one.”
Chapter 17
The plush leather seats of the Mustang felt cold to the touch as Edward got in. It had taken all his self-control to keep his face passive. At least he hoped it had been passive and hadn’t given anything away. So now they had his phone number and would be making inquiries. How could this be? He’d been so careful. He’d known the spent casings had been ejected and he’d even searched for them, but not with any real effort because they shouldn’t have mattered. How could he have known that the tall guy’s fingerprints would be on them? At the thought, he was glad he hadn’t unloaded the clip and touched the shells with his own hands. But, he thought with a shake of his head, he would have been smart enough to have wiped them clean before reloading.
He thought of his impromptu lie of a few nights earlier in which he’d told the family he was from Phoenix. Keeping his home town and dad’s occupation secret had been a spur of the moment decision, but a good one as it turned out. He couldn’t believe how the most inconsequential things might turn against him.
He started the car and pulled away from the curb slowly. Once on his way, he extracted his phone from its holster and pushed the power button, holding it for two seconds before it vibrated. He held it to his lips. “Call dad.”
“Calling Dad,” repeated the phone. Within seconds he heard the ring in his ear.
“Hello, Son.”
“Hi, Dad. I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure thing. What do you need? Are you already out of money?”
Edward frowned in disgust. It had always been that way. He remembered once when he was younger and just wanted to spend time with his dad. He’d noticed how other dads were involved in their son’s lives and he wanted the same. Instead of the desperately craved time, he’d been given twenty dollars and taken to the movie theater. Things like that happened countless times over the years. The answer was always money. His father never heard the real request, or if he had, he’d ignored it and pushed more money into his son’s face. Edward frowned at the recollection, then he thought of the reason for the call, the fact that his number now showed up on the tall guy’s phone.
It was his personal number, although it was registered to the law firm so it could be used as a tax write-off, anything so his dad could keep from paying more taxes.
“No. Nothing like that. It’s just there’s a guy here, a creepy kind of guy, and it’s almost like he’s stalking me. I don’t know why he’s doing it but I found out today he got my phone number from a friend. I’m worried he’ll call the office and try to get information about me. If he does, will you have your secretary just tell him it’s a phone owned by the law firm strictly for business use? Maybe that will convince him to leave me alone.”
There was a pause on the phone and Edward knew his dad was, as per usual, trying to do three things at once and paying attention to him only with the barest minimum of concentration.
Finally he came back on the line. “I can do that. Anything else?”
“Actually, yes. I’ll get a new phone plan at the mall tonight. Can you have that phone number canceled?”
“Sure.”
“You won’t forget will you?”
“Nope. Got it locked in my brain. I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning.”
The phone went dead in Edward’s ear without so much as a goodbye.
“Typical,” he grumbled under his breath as he flipped the phone to the empty s
eat at his side.
◆◆◆
Dan was already at work when Demetrius, with a spring in his step at the glorious winter day and the possibility of tracking down the killer with the phone numbers, strolled into the office. He filled two coffee cups and took a seat at the side of the junior detective’s desk.
Dan glanced up from his concentration. “Thanks.” He took the offered cup and slurped a mouthful.
“Anything yet?”
“Nothing concrete. Six personal numbers. Suzie is running their names now to see if they have any priors. Five calls from different companies in town. They are all legitimate so I’m assuming they had to do with his looking for a job.”
“Hmmm. That makes sense. He did mention that. Anything else?”
“A call from a law firm in San Diego called Johnson, Conrad and Smith. We can call them in an hour or so when they open for business. Fillmore is an ex-con so a call from a law firm probably isn’t out of the ordinary.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s concentrate on the individuals first. How long do you think it will take for Suzie to run the numbers?”
A woman’s voice interrupted, “How about no time at all?”
Demetrius turned at the sound of the voice from the door. Suzie was a twenty-five year veteran of the Tucson Police Department but her skills on the computer had been noticed early in her career so she was brought into the offices as support and was a whiz at her job. She had actually been his partner when he first came on the force all those years earlier and he had learned a lot from her.
He stood then grasped the folder she held in her hand. “Suzie, you’re the best.”
She punched him playfully in the shoulder. Her voice was mocking. “Suzie, you’re the best,” she repeated with feigned sarcasm. “You’re very complimentary when you need something but any other time I’m stuck in my office with no one to talk to. Just remember that if not for me you’d still be writing parking tickets and riding a bicycle.” She grinned.
He nodded, suddenly serious, remembering. Suzie had been a good mentor and had written a glowing letter at the end of his probationary period. He suspected she’d been the one who’d gotten the Chief involved when the Lieutenant tried to fire him. She was probably the only one in the violent crimes division who could speak her mind to anyone, at any time, in any place.
He placed a massive hand on her shoulder. “You’re right. So tell me what you’ve found. I’m sure you already have this case solved but are just letting us fumble along to make us feel good.”
Her grin expanded. “You’ve got the fumble part right, but I don’t have any gut feeling on this one. Two of the individuals have priors but nothing major. One has lived in Las Vegas for the past eight months and another is back in jail. Two are squeaky clean, leaving only the last two numbers that are tracphones with no record of who is using them. You know, the kind you can buy at Walmart and pay cash for minutes. I’ve included the last known addresses of all except the tracphones so now it’s gumshoe time for you clowns.” She grinned with a nod, then turned to stroll out of the office.
Demetrius watched her go with a promise to himself that he would try to show a little more appreciation. He turned and handed the folder to Dan who opened it immediately. Demetrius read over his shoulder. There was no additional information.
“She’s right about the gumshoe part.” Demetrius returned to the front of the desk and took a seat in the hard-backed, vinyl chair. “I have an appointment with one of the campus cops at nine to get the schedule for the boy who argued with the professor before he was killed. I told you about him.”
“Yeah. I’ll start on these names. I’ll call the Las Vegas guy first, then drive around to see if I can find the others.”
“Great. Let’s meet back here at noon. We can go to the diner for lunch and talk there.” He grinned. “That is if you can concentrate and not keep making those big puppy dog eyes at the waitress.”
Dan smiled at the joke, then got serious. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.” He looked intently at his senior partner.
Demetrius stood and extended his hand. “Good for you. Good for you.”
***
The receptionist at the University of Arizona police department stood as he walked through the door. “Hello, Detective.” She obviously remembered him from his earlier visit. “Officer Crowley is waiting for you. I’ll let him know you are here.”
He nodded with a smile. “I appreciate that.”
She returned in less than ten seconds with a uniformed officer following behind. Unlike the young and anxious-to-please Officer Dillman whom Demetrius had met earlier, the new officer appeared to be in his fifties, tall and thin and wearing a sour expression.
Demetrius extended his hand. “Demetrius Crown.” An involuntary shiver up his back at the limp handshake.
“Michael Crowley.”
The big detective waited patiently, expecting the man to hand over the class schedule and picture of William Johnson, the student who, according to Edward, had an argument with the professor, but the uniformed man made no effort to pass it over. Finally, he pointed to the golden badge pinned to his chest.
“You know we’re not just campus cops? We’re all certified police officers just like you.” There was unanticipated hostility in his voice.
“Yeah, I know that.” Demetrius kept his voice even and wondered what had caused the animosity.
“I’ve worked here for over twenty years and I have things to do too.”
So that was it. The man was feeling underappreciated and maybe undervalued. Demetrius knew that most of the University policemen started there with every expectation of eventually getting hired as an officer by a municipality. Shucks, he himself had even planned that route as a backup. Here was a man who had probably tried many times to move into a city job but must have continually been passed over. Demetrius immediately felt sorry for the man.
“Yes, sir. You’re right. It was insensitive of me to barge in here and I want you to know I certainly appreciate your help. If this lead helps solve this case, it will be largely because of your help.”
The officer’s face softened and a small nod was offered along with two sheets of paper. The man turned without another word to retreat back to into the hallway.
Demetrius watched him leave, then glanced at the receptionist. She smiled demurely and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
He winked as he turned to leave.
In the car he studied the paperwork, then checked his cell phone for the time. The boy was currently in the Econ building in his criminal justice class which would end in less than ten minutes. If he hurried he could make it.
Leaving the car in the University Police parking lot, Demetrius walked swiftly through the center of campus, arriving at the designated room in the Econ building at the same time the instructor dismissed the class. He waited in the hall, studying each of the students as they exited the lecture room. William Johnson appeared, smiling broadly while engaged in conversation with three other students. He fit the description, but Demetrius frowned at the thought that more than half the male students at the university also fit the vague description given by Stretch Fillmore.
“Excuse me.” Demetrius fell in step with the group.
They stopped, each looking up at the big man. “Yes?”
Demetrius gazed at the others in the group for a moment before focusing on William. “Are you William Johnson?” He already knew the answer because the picture had been a good one.
“I am.” The expression on the boy’s face showed a hint of concern.
“Could we talk for a minute?” He looked again at the two boys and one girl. “Alone?”
They glanced at one another, shrugged then walked on. Demetrius focused on the boy while gesturing to an empty stairwell.
They stood at the next to the top step. “I am Detective Demetrius Crown of the Tucson Police Department. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
“Yes, sir. What about?”
Demetrius’s gut told him this was not the murderer. The young man did not fit the mental picture the detective had in his head though he admitted inwardly that his expectation of the murderer’s appearance was nothing more than his imagination. The image after the vague description given by Stretch was of a smallish college student. William was relatively thin but muscular, just under six feet tall with hair more brown than blond. This boy just didn’t fit.
Besides, at first glance, his shoes seemed to be in the eight to nine range and according to Dusty, the prints from the wash outside Dr. Smallwood’s house were from a size eleven shoe. There was no tingling in the big man’s shoulders and he had come to rely heavily on the uncannily reliable sixth sense. Over the years that sprinkling of intuition had been the cause of more than a few solved crimes. Although the decision was not set in stone, this boy was mentally crossed off the suspect list unless something came from the questions.
“You had a class with Dr. Smallwood. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. That was too bad about him. He was a good guy.”
Demetrius nodded. He hated to ask the question but had to. “Did you and the professor ever argue?”
William seemed shocked. “Argue? No sir. Heck, I never saw him except in his lectures. I don’t recall ever talking to him outside the classroom.”
The big man nodded again. He had guessed as much. Maybe Edward had seen someone else. “Do you know of anyone that might have wanted to do harm to the professor?”
“No, sir. He was a good teacher in a fairly easy class. A person would have to work harder to get a bad grade than a good one.” The boy shook his head.
“Were you in the military?” Demetrius had the distinct impression the boy had been a soldier, probably brought on by the yes sir and no sir answers.
“Yes, sir. Two tours in Iraq.”
Demetrius abruptly stepped to the highest step and extended his hand. “Thank you for your time and thank you for your service.”