Dog Eat Dog

by David Rosenfelt

  It’s all I can do to pick a most likely candidate as to which group killed him and Tina Welker.

  Until recently, the leader heading into the stretch was the drug connection, Jerry Donnelly in charge. Charkin was clearly involved with them; not only was he using the product, but he seems to have been tied in with Mike Mitchell. Mitchell has a significant business relationship with Donnelly, no doubt an illegal one, but the details of which I haven’t been able to figure out.

  We haven’t made any progress in that regard because Sam reports that the truck we have our surveillance equipment in has not moved. My fear is that they have switched trucks, rendering us blind to their movements.

  A candidate coming up fast on the outside is the group headed up by Darrin Jeffrey. Something big is going on, something that Nichols said Charkin had at least a small part of. The killing of McCaskill shows that not only is this group capable of cold-blooded murder, but it also implies an urgency to whatever is going on.

  I probably lean toward the Donnelly connection as being responsible for the murders. Charkin, especially because of the connection with Mitchell, seems to have had the potential to be significant on some level to the operation.

  On the Darrin Jeffrey side, I don’t know how Charkin could have been more than a bit player. And my main suspect to have killed him was McCaskill. Clearly, as an FBI informant, McCaskill was not murdering anybody in service of Jeffrey.

  But whatever my feelings about it, I am better off focusing on the Donnelly side in the trial. The jury will find it much easier to understand the organized-crime, drug culture than the vague militia, dark-web one. If I’m going to emphasize one side as the potential alternative killer to Matt, Donnelly et al. is the way to go.

  Hovering over everything is the DNA matched to Matt at the scene. Even if I were able to convince the jury that either Donnelly or Jeffrey or whoever was behind the killing, that doesn’t mean that Matt wasn’t a part of it.

  Steinkamp will be only too happy to point that out.

  I do something that I should have done a while ago, something that might ultimately help me out in court. I place a call to Dustin Oliver of the Maine State Police. It’s a bit awkward, since he is about to testify for Steinkamp at trial.

  “You know I can’t talk to you,” he says, as soon as he gets on the phone.

  “It’s not about your testimony, or the case. Well, actually I hope it will be about the case, but only indirectly.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m calling to make you a hero.”

  “Then I’m listening.”

  “There’s a place called the Maine Lighthouse brewery; in Warren. They make craft beer; it’s owned by Mike Mitchell, former friend and employer of Peter Charkin.”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t about your case?”

  “Hear me out. I have reason to believe that they are involved in the drug business with Jerry Donnelly. They may even be manufacturing opioids.”

  I tell Oliver about the truck labeled Castle Farm Products, a company that does not exist. I say that it makes suspicious deliveries and pickups, then say that I will tell him the opportune time to intercept the truck.

  “I need probable cause,” he says. “I can’t just stop a truck and search it. The fact that it has a fake company name on the side is not illegal. Defense attorneys like you would have me for lunch.”

  “It also has fake license plates.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  We leave it that I will call him when the time is right, and he gives me his cell phone number. In my business that’s a sign of some trust.

  “The next time we talk will either be on your cell, or in court,” I say.

  “Matt … the defendant … and I dated for about a year and a half,” Carole Peterson says.

  “Did you talk about marriage?” Steinkamp asks.

  It prompts a smile from Peterson. “We didn’t actually talk about it, but we both implied it a lot.” Another smile. “We did a lot of implying. But I think we both assumed that’s where we’d wind up.”

  “Is that where you wound up?”

  “No. It isn’t. We broke up a little more than two years ago.”

  “Who broke off the relationship?”

  “I did.”

  “I understand these questions are personal,” Steinkamp says, displaying fake concern. “But please tell the jury why you did that.”

  “Well, I guess the easy thing to say is that we grew apart, and I’m sure there was fault on both sides, but Matt changed. He had always been fun and upbeat, but he lost that.”

  “Did you talk about what was going on?”

  “I knew what was going on. He lost his mother; she raised him by herself and they were really close. Then his friend Carl Blanchard died of cancer. That was really tough on Matt; they were very close, and Matt was with him right until the end.”

  “So he became depressed?”

  She nods. “Yes. Dark. It wasn’t the Matt I knew.”

  “How did he handle the breakup?”

  “I don’t know; I literally wasn’t there. I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing. I feel now like I let him down when he needed me.”

  “Did you know Tina Welker, one of the victims in this case?”

  “Yes. Tina was a close friend.”

  “As you felt your relationship with the defendant deteriorating, did you discuss the situation with Ms. Welker?”

  “Yes, I talked about it with a lot of my friends. We rely on each other.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That I should break up with Matt, that the relationship was causing me pain and was not going to survive anyway. She felt I’d be better off ending it before we both suffered more pain.”

  “Did you tell Matt what she said?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I believe that I did. Certainly I told him how my friends felt, and I think I mentioned Tina, because she was the most vocal about it.”

  “How did he react when you told him how your friends felt?”

  “He got angry and said it was none of their business. I regretted telling him what they said; I shouldn’t have done that. But I was looking for support, for evidence that I was doing the right thing, and that’s why I told him.”

  My first question for Peterson is “When you told Mr. Jantzen that the relationship was over, did he get angry?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And you testified that when you told him what your friends said, that he also was angry about that, is that correct?”

  She nods. “Yes.”

  “When he was angry like that, did he hit you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he try and shoot you?”

  “No.”

  “Were you afraid he was going to physically hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Matt wasn’t like that; he just wasn’t violent in that way.”

  I could leave it there, it’s a pretty perfect ending to her testimony, but I decide to go just a bit further. Ms. Peterson seems pleased to be able to say things beneficial to Matt.

  “Did you ever see Mr. Jantzen get into a fight? Hit anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever see him with a gun?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Did you ever have the thought that maybe you should warn Tina Welker or some of your other friends because Mr. Jantzen was mad at them?”

  “No. It never entered my mind.”

  “Is that because you did not consider him to be a violent person?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Thank you.”

  Unfortunately, the next time I will talk to Captain Dustin Oliver will be in court, not on his cell phone.

  I know that because Steinkamp has just called him to the stand.

  The truck that Sam plante
d the surveillance devices in has not moved, so I couldn’t call Oliver to tell him to intercept and board it. I’m beginning to doubt whether it will ever move; it may have been taken out of service.

  Ironically, whereas the homicide detective in charge of the case is usually a crucial witness, in this situation that’s not true. That’s because although he was in charge, he didn’t solve the case. He had failed to do so, until the DNA changed everything.

  Steinkamp has Oliver briefly describe his career, the commendations he has won, and his recent promotion from lieutenant to captain. It’s impressive, and he comes across well to the jury.

  In answer to a question, Oliver says, “We took nothing for granted. We considered that Ms. Welker might have been a target, as well as Mr. Charkin. We also considered the very real possibility that it was a random home invasion robbery, which is what it appeared to be.”

  “What is your theory about what took place in that house?”

  “The assailant came in, either allowed in because he knew the occupants, or perhaps through a window. There was one open on the side of the house.

  “There was a struggle, probably a brief one, during which Mr. Charkin was punched in the face. He clearly responded and punched or scratched back, because some of the assailant’s blood was found on his right hand.

  “It’s likely that they were then tied to chairs and shot in the head. Of course, we can’t be sure of the order of things. They might have been tied up, then Mr. Charkin could have broken free and the struggle ensued then.”

  “Did those particulars matter to your investigation?”

  “Not materially.”

  “Please describe the progress you made in the investigation.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t take very long. We followed many possibilities, but always ran into the fact that anyone that might qualify as a suspect did not match the DNA on Mr. Charkin’s hand. It effectively eliminated them, and frankly, we were stymied.”

  “But then you caught a break?”

  Oliver nods. “We did. We have people that periodically check the DNA submitted to these ancestry sites. Those people have the option to make their submissions public, and there have been cases where we have been able to connect the DNA to a sibling, or to a crime they have themselves committed.”

  “And that’s what happened in this case when Mr. Jantzen submitted his sample?”

  “Yes. We traced him to his sister, and then he was found in New Jersey and extradited here.”

  Oliver has not done us any damage; he didn’t have to. But there isn’t that much for me to clean up.

  “Captain, in your investigation, did you discover that Mr. Charkin was an abuser of opioids?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that an area you explored, because of your knowledge that drug dealing is often done by violent people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you learn who supplied Mr. Charkin with the drugs?”

  “We did not.”

  “But you interviewed many friends and associates of both Ms. Welker and Mr. Charkin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Including Carole Peterson, who was a friend of Ms. Welker and who had recently broken up with Mr. Jantzen?”

  “Yes.”

  “And in all this investigation, and in all these interviews, did the name of Mr. Jantzen ever come up?”

  “Not to my knowledge, no.”

  “Nobody said, ‘Hey, this guy is acting strange and is depressed and could be dangerous’?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever consider the fact that the blood on Mr. Charkin’s hand might have been planted, in an effort to absolve the real killer?”

  “No, there was nothing to indicate that.”

  “So it’s not possible?”

  “Anything is possible; it’s not a reasonable hypothesis.”

  “Doesn’t make sense?”

  “Correct.”

  “Let me ask you about some other things, and you can tell me whether they make sense.”

  “Does it make sense that a killer would follow news accounts of the investigation?”

  “I would say so, yes.”

  “Does it make sense that a killer, knowing from news reports that he left DNA on the scene, would voluntarily make his DNA publicly available?”

  “It makes no sense, but murderers don’t always behave logically.”

  “Does it make sense that shortly after making the DNA public, he would return after two years to the area in which the crime took place?”

  “Sometimes people act arrogantly, as if they are above the law.”

  “I asked you if it made sense.”

  “Not to me.”

  I let Oliver off the stand, subject to recall by the defense, and we adjourn for lunch. Sam has left a message on my cell phone to call him right away.

  “The truck is on the move,” he says.

  “Tell me everything you know.”

  “Okay. You’re going to love it.”

  “It’s your good friend Andy Carpenter.”

  Captain Oliver moans. “I think I’ve had enough of you for today.”

  “The truck is on the move.”

  His tone changes immediately. “Talk to me.”

  “It should be at the brewery in two hours; it will be coming down the 295. According to my sources, it is carrying three cases of thebaine.”

  Oliver whistles softly. He obviously knows that thebaine is a key ingredient in making synthetic opioids. It is itself an opiate alkaloid, chemically similar to codeine and morphine. “You’re sure of this?”

  “Positive. The truck is filled with boxes of stuff to make beer. The three boxes of thebaine are in the middle of them; if you bring a canine drug detector, the dog will find it in a minute.” I don’t mention that Simon Garfunkel could easily do the trick. Oliver will have other dogs to help if he wants them.

  “You have an idea how we should proceed?”

  “Funny you should ask. I think you should stop the truck for the improper license plate, then search the vehicle. The dog can give you even more probable cause. Once you’ve found the thebaine, you can head for the brewery. The fact that the thebaine was headed there gives you all the probable cause you need to enter.

  “Once you’re in there, there are two very large rooms, each one like a warehouse. One is where they produce the beer; I suspect the other is where they manufacture the drugs.”

  “How do we know the truck is headed there?”

  “Ask the driver before you let him know you’re going to search the truck. He would have no reason to withhold it. You also might find a GPS with the brewery address in it, or a work order. You’re an investigator; figure it out.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “That is not something I am going to share with you.”

  “What a surprise. The people who work for me think you’re full of shit and this is going to blow up in our face.”

  “Then you need to work on your hiring criteria. Please call me later to let me know how it went. You can also thank me then and apologize for doubting me.”

  Click.

  While Captain Oliver is off doing whatever he’s doing, the main event is about to unfold in the courtroom.

  Steinkamp’s witness is Sergeant Sarah Gentry, who works in forensics. Charlie Tilton has warned me that she makes an excellent witness; she is widely respected and fully understands her craft, though apparently she can be a contentious witness under cross-examination.

  I hate people like that, except for the contentious part. That always works in my favor.

  Steinkamp gets the uncomfortable part out of the way first. He gets Gentry to say that she did not actually work this case two years ago, that Sergeant Anthony Rojas was in charge. Unfortunately for Steinkamp, and certainly for Rojas, he passed away last year.

  “You have access to all of Sergeant Rojas’s notes and records from the case?” Steinkamp asks.

  “Yes.”

  �
��And you’ve studied them?”

  “Yes, of course. Thoroughly.”

  “Let’s focus on the blood found on Mr. Charkin’s hands. Was it possible to retrieve DNA from that?”

  “Yes.”

  “There was a great deal of blood from the gunshot wound that Mr. Charkin suffered. Did that not mix with the blood on his hand?”

  “It did not.”

  “So the sample was pure?”

  “Pure, but slightly degraded. That is not uncommon in cases like this and can be due to a variety of factors. We use a technique called PCR to make sure we get an accurate reading.”

  Steinkamp takes twenty minutes having her explain the intricacies of PCR testing. The jurors, even though they must understand that this is the key testimony, look like they might doze off. I wouldn’t mind a sleeper couch myself.

  That turns out not to be the most boring part. After she describes how there were no matches for the DNA in any of the federal or state systems, she gets to the sample that Matt sent to the ancestry site.

  She goes into a lengthy discourse on the individual markers in the DNA strands that prove that the two samples match and says that the chance it is wrong is less than one in a quadrillion. I’ve lost bets on football games with odds better than that, but I don’t think I’ll point that out on cross-examination.

  The entire process takes until three thirty, and Judge Pressley asks if I’d like to start my questioning now or hold off until tomorrow. Even though I’m anxious to hear from Captain Oliver, I want to score whatever points I can rather than let the jury spend the night thinking Gentry’s testimony is unchallenged.

  Her body language changes as I approach. She stiffens, as if gearing up for the battle. I’m fine with that. “Sergeant Gentry, you said that the DNA sample was degraded, and—”

  She interrupts me, not trying to conceal her annoyance. “I said ‘slightly degraded.’”

  “Right. This might go faster if you let me ask the question, then you can include your corrections, or ‘slight’ corrections, in your answer. What can cause DNA degradation?”

  “A variety of factors. Temperature, time, ultraviolent light, radiation…”

  “Do you know what the temperature was the night of the murders?”