The Advocate's Homicides

by Teresa Burrell

  With further questioning, all JP established was that she didn't know anything more. She couldn't tell him what the kid was wearing, how tall he was, how old he was, or anything else that might help eliminate Tray as a suspect. JP showed her about eight pictures of African-American boys about Tray's age; Tray’s picture was included. She said it could be any one of them with the exception of one who looked older and much darker than Tray.

  ***

  Later that day, JP walked out of Target and spotted the man with the petition. He appeared to be about forty-five and needed a shave, but was a nice-looking man. When he smiled, he revealed a missing tooth that detracted from his looks. JP walked closer to him and was approached, as he knew he would be, by the solicitor.

  "Sir, are you interested in lowering your taxes?" the man asked.

  "Always," JP responded.

  The man handed him a copy of the petition. JP took it, looked closer at the man, and said, "Weren't you at Albertsons a couple of weeks ago?"

  He sniffed. "Yes, I was. Did you already sign this?"

  "Were you there on a Saturday?"

  "I think so." He sniffed. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I worked there on a Saturday and Sunday."

  "That would’ve been the first weekend of May?"

  "Sounds right."

  "I'm a PI and I'm looking for a missing child. He may have been at that Albertsons." JP thought that would be the easiest way to obtain information. It would take a lot less explaining and may provoke some sympathy. "Would you mind answering a few questions for me?"

  "Sure. I'll do that."

  JP took out his phone and showed him a photo of Irving. "Do you recognize this man?"

  He looked it over carefully, sniffed, and shook his head. "I don't know that I do. Did that man take the kid?"

  "We don't know. He would've been with a small, teenage, African-American boy. And the man was wearing a cap and sunglasses."

  He shook his head again. "Man, I wish I could help, but I don't remember seeing that guy, but I see so many people. Like you, for instance; I don't remember seeing you."

  JP didn't have the heart to tell him that his story was a ploy since the man hadn't figured that out.

  Chapter 19

  JP spent nearly two hours attempting to call the 142 listings for tire stores in the San Diego area. He started in National City and worked his way outward. Each time he asked to speak to Horatio. Finally, he reached Big O Tires in San Marcos.

  "May I speak to Horatio Whisenant, please?" JP asked.

  "Just a sec," the young man said. JP heard him ask someone if there was anyone there named Horatio. "Sorry, I'm new here. Horatio doesn't work here anymore. He left about six months ago."

  "Do you know if he went to another store?" JP asked.

  The guy on the phone repeated the question and then said, "No idea."

  JP was discouraged. If Whisenant left the tire company, he could've gone anywhere or nowhere. Since JP had called over half his list, he decided to keep trying in hopes that the man got another job for which he had experience.

  Another eighteen calls were made with no success until a man said, "Stanley Tire, how can I help you?"

  "May I speak to Horatio, please?"

  "He's on his lunch and won't be back until one o'clock. I'm the manager on duty right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

  "Actually, you're who I should talk to. My wife was in there not long ago, and I just want to let you know what great service she received. She talked to a couple of workers there, but the only name she could remember was Horatio. She said he was very friendly and explained everything to her. She felt very safe in her car when she left."

  "Well, thank you for taking the time to call. We don't get to hear that sort of thing very often. I'll pass the word on."

  JP jotted down the address of the store and stuck the paper in his pocket.

  "Come, Louie," JP called to his beagle pup. "You need to go outside."

  Louie ran across the living room floor and followed JP out the door. JP left him there, and went to his kitchen to make a turkey sandwich that he wrapped in a paper towel. Then he returned to the back door and let Louie inside.

  "Be a good boy. I won't be long."

  JP grabbed the sandwich and a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drove to Stanley Tire, eating his food as he drove. He arrived about 12:40, hoping to catch Whisenant before he started his shift. When he pulled into the parking lot, he saw a small, Mexican fast-food restaurant next door. He parked his car and walked to the restaurant. There was an African-American man sitting alone at a table out front. He was wearing a black shirt with a "Stanley Tire" insignia on it. As JP approached the table, he could read the name patch. It read, "Horatio." The man appeared to be almost done with his food and was sipping on a large soft drink.

  "Mind if I sit here?" JP asked.

  Horatio glanced around suspiciously at the empty tables. "No. I'm nearly done," he said in a deep baritone voice.

  "You're Horatio Whisenant, right?"

  Horatio set his drink on the table. "Yes, do I know you?"

  "No. My name is JP Torn. I'm a private investigator for your son, Tray Copley."

  "What do you want?" His tone was a little harsh.

  "Your son is in juvenile hall. He's been charged with murder."

  "Murder? What the hell has happened to that kid? He was such a good boy."

  "He's still a good boy, but a lot has happened since you've been gone. When was the last time you saw him?"

  "Two or three years ago. I couldn't live with that skeezer anymore."

  "Jeannine?"

  "Yes. She just couldn't stop the drugs, and then she'd go whoring around. I don't do drugs. I tried some stuff when I was a teenager, but then I figured out how stupid it was. But Jeannine, she'd go along for a year or two doing just fine, and then a little pressure and she'd be out lookin' for some cookies for her dumb self. So I left her ass."

  "I'm not judging or anything, but why didn't you take Tray with you?"

  "I thought about it, but I figured I'd come back for him when I got my life straightened out. I didn't have a job and I had no place to live, but I knew I couldn't stay there or I would've killed that ho. Besides, Tray's little sister needed him. He always took care of her and since she wasn't mine, I couldn't take her. Jeannine got pregnant with her when I was in prison. Can't blame her for that. I was gone five years, but I don't think she even knows who the daddy is."

  JP watched carefully for any change of expression when he asked the next question. "Do you know a guy named Glen Irving?"

  "No. Don't think so. Why?"

  JP saw no flicker of recognition from Horatio. He was either a good liar, or he didn't know anything about Irving.

  "Did you hear about that body they found last week in El Cajon in Coyote Ridge?"

  "Yeah, was that him? I saw something on the news, but they didn't give his name."

  "Yes. About a year ago, Jeannine hooked up with Irving and he moved in with her and the kids. About six months ago it was discovered that Irving had sexually molested your son."

  Horatio's face tightened and his eyes widened. JP could see the anger in his face as both of his hands formed fists. He said nothing.

  JP continued. "The Department of Social Services filed a petition and removed the children from her care. Since they couldn't find you, the children went to foster care."

  "What the hell? They couldn't find me? You found me." He spit out the words.

  "I guess I looked a little harder, but in all fairness, you haven't left much of a trail. Tray's alibi is a little flimsy for the day Irving was killed."

  "When was he killed?"

  "Two weeks ago on Saturday or Sunday. That's as close as they can get since the body was found about a week later. He was in the care of his foster parents all day Sunday, but he spent some time with his best friend on Saturday. I don't know how credible his friend will sound on the stand."

  Horatio rubbed his hea
d as if he were thinking. "So the concern is Saturday. I wasn't hustlin' that day. I was home most of the time with the old lady and the kids and my old lady's sister from Hemet. But I could be his alibi. Would that work?"

  "No," JP said. "His attorney is not going to put you on the stand to perjure yourself."

  "So, what do you want from me?"

  JP decided to be straight with him. "If that happened to someone I cared about, I'd want to kill him."

  "And you thought maybe I did it."

  "I'm just doing my job."

  "If I'd known about it, I probably would’ve, but I didn't. I know I haven't been much of a father, but I’ll tell you this: I'd like to meet the motha who ganked that goof, so I can thank him."

  The word goof caught JP's attention. "Do you know if you ever used the word goof around Tray?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. That's what the inmates called kid diddlers in prison. Why?"

  "Just curious." JP handed his card and Sabre's card to Horatio. "If you want to see your son, call this number," he said. "You may have to be cleared by Social Services, and I'm sure Sabre, his attorney, will ask Tray if he wants to see you, but a visit may be good for both of you." JP wasn't certain if seeing his father would be good for Tray or not, but it might be nice if Tray had a choice. And at least his father was working and attempting to stay out of prison… unless Horatio had just fed him a bunch of bull.

  Chapter 20

  JP walked up to the small house in an older neighborhood where Glen Irving's mother and sister lived. The lawns on the block were well maintained. No fences and none of the old homes seemed to need a paint job. JP had researched the neighborhood and knew it had the distinction of being mostly owner occupied. That was rare in an older area like this.

  Irving's sister, Suzanne Prado, answered the door when he knocked.

  "I'm JP Torn. Thanks for seeing me."

  "I'll help if I can," Suzanne said, as she escorted JP into the living room. "This is my mother, Charlotte Irving. Mother, this is JP Torn."

  "Hello," Charlotte said.

  "As I explained on the phone, Mother has Alzheimer's, but she's having a good morning so far today."

  "Good," JP said. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

  "You're a southern boy like Elvis. I was born in the south, you know. Just outside of Memphis over eighty years ago. Not too far from Graceland. Course Graceland didn't belong to Elvis then. I went to Humes High School with him, you know."

  "With Elvis?"

  "Yes. Nice young man." Then she stared toward the window in silence.

  Suzanne added, "That's true. She did go to high school with Elvis. She's told us many stories about him. She said he was kind of shy and always very polite to teachers, addressing them as ‘ma'am’ and ‘sir.’ Elvis was different from the rest of the boys. He went to school in dress pants, while the others wore jeans, and he often wore flamboyant clothes. She has some great tales to tell." Suzanne paused. "But you're not here about that. What can I tell you about my brother Glen?"

  "Glen," his mother said. "Nice young man. When's he coming to see me?" She seemed to direct her question at JP.

  He didn't know how to respond, so he looked at Suzanne.

  "Mom, remember what I told you? Glen isn't with us any longer."

  "Maybe he'll come over later," Charlotte said.

  Suzanne picked up the remote control. "Mom, it's time for your TV shows." She turned on the television and then said to JP, "Let's go into the dining room. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

  "No, I'm fine. Thanks." He followed her into the room just a few steps away, and taking Suzanne’s cue, sat down at the little table.

  "She forgets that he's dead. I suppose it's just as well."

  "I'm so sorry about your mother. It's hard to know what to do sometimes."

  "Yes it is," she said. "So you're representing the kid who killed him?"

  "Yes, the boy who is charged with his murder, but I'm not certain he did it. He claims he's innocent. That's why I'm investigating."

  "The police haven't told us that much. Why do they think he killed Glen?"

  "A few months ago Glen was living with our client's mother."

  Suzanne shook her head, and for a second, she closed her eyes. A look of pain flashed across her face. "What did he do?"

  She knows, JP thought. "He molested the young man." JP paused. "Did you know about that?"

  "No. I haven't seen my brother in years. We weren't on speaking terms."

  "Why is that?"

  "I have a son, Rory. I never trusted Glen around him because he would touch him in a way that made Rory uncomfortable."

  "You mean sexually?"

  "No, but he would caress his back or try to hold his hand. Glen was living in Anaheim, not far from Disneyland, at the time. He wanted Rory to stay a weekend with him, and he promised to take him to Disneyland. When I said no, he kept trying to see Rory alone to convince him. I finally told him to get out and that he wasn't ever taking my son anywhere."

  "How did your brother respond to that?"

  "He left. He knew exactly why. He never even tried to reach me again."

  "How long ago was that?"

  "About eight years ago."

  "Are you aware of any other children who may have fallen victim to your brother?"

  She thought for a few seconds. "Not for certain, but once I was in Orange County and I stopped at his house to see him. He didn't invite me inside because he said the house was just too messy. We talked outside for a little while and then a kid, about eleven or twelve years old, came out and said he had to get home. Glen tried to coax him into staying, but he left. I watched as he walked to an apartment just a few doors away. That was before the incident with Rory, but it made me very uneasy. That's probably why I was so careful with him around my son."

  Suzanne gave JP her brother's address when he had lived in Anaheim and the location of the apartment that the child had entered, but he knew finding the boy was a long shot. The chances of him still living there were almost nonexistent.

  After more conversation, JP learned that Irving had five sisters and no brothers. "My father died when I was only three years old. Glen was five. My mom remarried and our stepdad Bill, who, although he was good to all of us, favored Glen. He took Glen everywhere he went—fishing, hunting, sometimes even to work—right from the start. We didn't think much of it because he was the only boy. Bill was around for about four years, and then one day he just left. At least that's what I thought happened. Mom never talked about it, but my older sister told me once that Mom kicked Bill out when she found him messing around with Glen. But I think the damage had already been done."

  "Can you think of anyone else who might have a grudge against your brother?"

  "I know how these things work. I'm sure he has molested many kids besides your client, so I'm sure there are a lot of angry mothers and fathers who would like to kill him. I know my husband would’ve if I had told him what I suspected about Glen and the way he was talking to Rory."

  "So your husband still doesn't know?"

  "No. He passed away two years ago, so I'm pretty sure he didn't kill him."

  JP thought this woman was pretty sharp. She picked right up on his suspicions. "So I have to ask: where is your son?"

  "He's in New York in film school. He's in his third year at the university. I doubt if he even remembers his Uncle Glen. I asked Rory at the time if Glen had done anything to him and he said no, but he made it clear that he didn't like him or the way he looked at him."

  "And where were you a week ago Saturday?" JP didn’t really see her as a suspect, but he was getting desperate.

  "It was my mother's eightieth birthday. We had a big party for her at the recreation center. It started at two in the afternoon, and it was nine-thirty before we returned home. She had a wonderful time, by the way."

  "I had to ask," JP said.

  "If I were going to kill Glen, I would've done it a long time ago. Besides, I don't think he
ever got the chance to hurt Rory—although I can't bear the thought of how many children he probably hurt over the years."

  "Did the Orange County incident make you suspicious for the first time of his behavior?"

  "Yes, but in all fairness, I wasn't around my brother much after he became an adult. We were only two years apart in age and we were really close until our stepdad came into the picture, but by the time we were teenagers, Glen was...how should I put this...different, and we were never close again."

  "Different how?"

  "He didn't seem too interested in girls. He had very few friends. He would stay up all night and then not want to go to school the next day."

  "What did he do all night?"

  "Watched TV or read comics." She paused. "And he would play with his old Lego sets. He was actually pretty smart, but sometimes he would act very childish."

  "Can you think of anyone else he may have harmed or anyone who might have a grudge against him?"

  "No. Like I said, I didn't see that much of him."

  "Do you know where he was living?"

  "After he left Orange County, he lived here with Mom until about three or four years ago. When her illness got too bad, he couldn't handle being around her. That's when I came back from northern California. He moved out and I moved in. I only saw him once or twice, but Mom would talk about him a lot. On some level, I think she knew what he was doing."

  "Why?"

  "Because she told me not to bring my little boys here when he was here. I explained that I only had one child, Rory, and he was away at college. She said, 'That's good. That's good.' I once tried to ask her what she knew, but she didn’t explain. Now she just seems to remember him as a child, which is just as well for her sake."

  "Did Glen work?"

  "He didn't keep a job too long, but when he did, it was mostly janitorial work. He worked at Walmart for a while. That may have been his longest job. It lasted about three years, I think, but it was quite a while back. Mom might be able to tell us if you think it will help."

  "It might."

  They walked into the living room. Suzanne picked up the remote and paused her mother's show.