by John L. Work
23
On August 30, he got a call from Detective Steve Reilly of the Park County Sheriff’s Office.
“We got a DNA profile on our dead guy, Slaikovitch. You want me to fax the report to you?”
“You bet I do. Did you manage to match him with any other crimes?”
“No. Not yet. I did some more background work. I talked with his family. He’s always been a loner, dropped out of high school, had a hard time holding jobs. I still haven’t been able to find where he was staying. I even did some checking at that A.A. club on Larimer Street down in Denver. It’s a big group. Some of them remembered who he was. But, no one knows where he lived, who his outside contacts were or where he hung out when there wasn’t a meeting going on.”
“Hmm. You’ve got a tough one there. Well, I’m still looking for leads in the Sheila McCowell murder. I got an email from her computer. This lady may have had a secret lesbian girlfriend and I’m having a hell of a time trying to find her. Weird. It’s just been one dead end after another. So, yeah, what’ve I got to lose here? If you can send me that DNA profile report on Slaikovitch, I’ll send it with my tissue samples from the post-mortem down to C.B.I. We’ll see what they come up with.”
“Will do. And if you get anything matching Slaikovitch to your case, let me know. Who knows? Maybe we can solve two at one time here.”
“Yeah. Who knows? Maybe. Thanks for the call. I’ll be in touch.”
“Later.”
Two hours hence he had the Slaikovitch DNA report in his hand. Welch called the crime lab and told Michelle Kuchtar he needed the scrapings from beneath Sheila’s fingernails sent out for a profile, along with the Park County report. He filled out a written C.B.I. form that was necessary for the work to be done. Then he wrote and signed a cover letter that outlined the facts of the case, requested a priority rush on the lab work, handed all of it directly to Michelle and it was on its way to Denver late that afternoon. Kuchtar interrupted the project she was working on and altered her schedule to make a special trip in order to expedite the request. He figured he at least owed her a cheeseburger lunch for going out of her way to help him.
He had no idea if there was any connection between Reilly’s case and his, but at this point it was worth the try. At the moment he had no other firm leads. Yes, this was a shot in the dark, but if nothing else were to come of it, if there wasn’t a DNA match, he’d be able to eliminate Slaikovitch as a suspect. So, there would be at least one positive outcome from the effort.
In the meantime he decided to go back to the First Colonial American Bank to talk once again with Janet Rogers, this time armed with a search warrant for Sheila’s bank records and her safe deposit box, if she had one.
Welch said hello to Kathy Winsland, the regular receptionist at the front desk. She picked up her telephone and announced his arrival. Janet came out within a few seconds. Sammie Newsom smiled and waved to him from inside her office at the far end of the lobby.
This time he asked Janet if they could speak within her office, with the door closed.
24
Transcription of Interview
JW: Detective J.D. Welch, Roberts County Sheriff’s Office
JR: Janet Rogers
JW: The date is August 31, 2001 and the time is 2:30 p.m. This is Detective Welch and I’m speaking with Janet Rogers at the First Colonial American Bank in Denver, Colorado. Janet, I want to ask you again, did Sheila McCowell have any close friendships or romantic interests she confided in you?
JR: None that I knew of. I’m surprised you’re asking me again. I told you during our first interview. She was my closest friend and if she were involved with anyone, I think she’d have told me about it. We talked about everything.
JW: How many personal computers do you own?
JR: One.
JW: What kind is it? What make?
JR: It’s an HP desktop. Why are you asking me that?
JW: It’s just something I need to know – part of my investigation. Did she ever tell you about any friends she’d met online? Anyone she corresponded with?
JR: No, she never mentioned anything like that. Why? You think there’s an internet connection? Is that what you’re getting at?
JW: I don’t know yet. It’s just something I have to explore. I can’t overlook anything. Did she ever talk about going into chat rooms to communicate with anyone?
JR: No. I don’t think she would’ve done that. She was leery of chat rooms, because she’d read some stories. You know. Somebody goes to meet someone they chatted with online and something bad happens. She monitored her kids’ computer activities, too. No. Sheila stayed away from any stuff with strangers.
JW: This is probably going to shock you, but I have to ask the question. Did you ever get any hint from her that she might be interested in women – in a sexual way?
JR: Now you’re way off base, Detective. Sheila was straight. And the only man I ever knew her to be interested in was Jim. When they were married, he was all she talked about – and the kids, of course.
JW: What about after the divorce?
JR: I told you before, there was no one – at least no one that I knew of. Why are you asking if Sheila was interested in women? This is odd.
JW: I’m so sorry to have to pose the question, but as I told you, I can’t overlook anything – especially since the only person of interest that’s apparent at this point would be her ex. And that’s all he is right now. In any murder of a woman, that’s the first person the police have to examine and eliminate as a suspect. And I need to ask one more rather personal question. Is there a significant other in your life?
JR: No.
JW: How long has it been since there was someone – like a boyfriend, or someone you dated steadily?
JR: I haven’t dated anyone steadily since my divorce. After my ex left me for his high school girlfriend I really don’t trust men. Why are you asking me that question?
JW: I was just wondering if perhaps someone you dated, someone you introduced to Sheila along the way, might know something about who killed her. It’s another routine exploratory question. When there’s a murder we have to do a complete background investigation on the victim. I need to question everyone who was in Sheila’s life. And, once again, are you certain she never had an affair outside her marriage?
JR: I’m sure of it. She would have told me. We were that close.
JW: Is there anything else you can think of that I should know about?
JR: Not that I can think of. But, if I do think of anything, I’ll call you right away.
JW: Thank you. I’ll end the interview. The time is 2:40 p.m.
End of Conversation
25
Welch had to admit to himself, she was pretty convincing. She gave no hint or movements during the interview which indicated she was being evasive or untruthful with him. He sat at his desk, thinking – and he drifted back to the nagging question, who was Iron Maiden? And how would he ever find her? Then it hit him. What if Iron Maiden was a man? What if he’d been chasing this lesbian lover clue and it didn’t even exist, except in his mind? It wouldn’t be the first time his brain started him down the wrong road in an investigation.
Years ago he’d gotten himself into a vexing situation in Calhoun County, while investigating several complaints that a man in a green pickup truck had been trying to lure little girls into his vehicle. They were small children, about six years old, who were students at one of the local elementary schools. First the perpetrator cruised around the block as school ended and called kids over to his truck at curbside. He talked them into pulling their dresses up so he could see their underpants. Then he asked them to get into the truck with him. None of them had taken him up on getting into the truck, but it’d been a race against the clock to find and arrest him before one of them did get in with him. Had that happened, there would probably have been a horrible tragedy – perhaps the rape and murder of a small child. It was a pressure-packed case.
Welch received two possible license plate numbers from two different teachers who witnessed this man driving around the neighborhood at the end of the school day. Both teachers saw him stopping to talk with young girls who were walking on their way home. The only difference between the two plate numbers was in one digit. One of the witnesses said the last number on the license was a three and the other said it was an eight. Both witnesses described the man as white, middle aged and bald.
When the detective ran the plate that ended with a 3, it came back to a known sex offender, a convicted child molester who was out on parole and living in Ridgeville. He pulled up the mug shot on the computer link-up with the Department of Corrections and found a middle-aged convict who was bald. Welch was sure he had found his man. He drove to the address that listed to the license plate, fully prepared to listen to a confession and make an arrest. When the suspect, whose name was Tony Briar, answered the front door, he was sporting about three months’ growth of beard. Welch was looking for a clean-shaven man. So, he quickly explained why he was there and apologized to Briar, emphasizing that someone had made a mistake with the license number in a possible child sexual assault case. But Briar saw an excellent opportunity to berate a cop for harassing him and took full advantage of it. He yelled for a good three or four minutes about how the police had no business bothering him and what an insult this insinuation was for him. The detective listened patiently and then excused himself as Briar’s battery began to run down and he ran out of words.
As it turned out, the second plate number was registered to a member of a prominent family in the community – a man who tearfully confessed to all of it during an interview at the substation. During his confession, he said that his sole-proprietorship business had placed so much stress on him that he began to look at the little school girls in order to escape from the pressure of reality. One thing led to another. He began to talk to the children and convinced them to allow him to see their underwear. He knew he’d get caught, sooner or later, but couldn’t stop himself. The only provable criminal charge the detective had at that point was a harassment case. Welch booked and cited his suspect for the misdemeanor. The perpetrator immediately checked into a psychiatric hospital.
Welch learned a valuable lesson from that one. Things may not really be as they first appear. So, he now had to reconsider his position and open his mind to the possibility that he was looking for a male Iron Maiden.
26
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Hi.”
“That detective was in the bank again, today.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He asked about the computer.”
“Really.”
“Yes. She must have left something on it.”
“Hmm. Do you think we should get rid of it?”
“Probably. Yes.”
“Can I see you this week?”
“No. I’ve got some things pressing on me.”
“Please. It seems like forever.”
“No. I just can’t. Soon, though. I promise.”
“How soon?”
“I don’t know right now. But, soon.”
“Okay. I’ll call again in a few days. I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait ‘til we’re together again.”
“And I love you. Goodbye.”
“Bye, darling.”
27
The call from the Colorado Bureau of Investigation crime lab came just before lunchtime. Welch picked up the phone and spoke with Agent Sally Roarty.
“We’ve got a match between the fingernail scrapings from your Sheila McCowell murder and Jimmie Slaikovitch, the homicide victim out of Park County. It was his skin she clawed during the struggle.”
“What are the numbers?”
“Fourteen and a half million to one.”
“Can you fax me the report?”
“Sure. I’ll get to it as soon as we hang up.”
“Thanks, Sally. I’ll be looking for it.”
“Bye.”
Roarty’s mathematics said that the odds of the skin scrapings belonging to anyone other than Slaikovitvh were remote in the extreme. Those probabilities were good enough for any detective. Welch was nothing short of astonished. With a wild, random shot he’d found Sheila McCowell’s killer and there’d be no need for a trial. The murderer was long dead and most of his remains were digested. But, who killed him? No, Welch thought. That was Park County Detective Steve Reilly’s problem. Why make life any more complicated than it already was? But then again, could Slaikovitch’s murder be related to Sheila’s? With Jimmie’s druggie lifestyle and criminal background, anything would be possible.
Welch didn’t consider it highly probable that the two cases were related. He actually almost wished they weren’t related. That would make things so much simpler for him. Still, his curiosity nagged at him and his mind wouldn’t let it go, turning over the possibilities again and again. He hadn’t located or identified Iron Maiden, that elusive apparent significant other Sheila had concealed from everyone. Would it matter now? Of course it would. He picked up his phone and dialed the District Attorney’s Office to brief Deputy D.A. Don Alcomb on the latest developments. Then he called Steve Reilly in Park County.
“Steve, it’s Welch in Roberts County.”
“Hey. I already know. We’ve got a match. I just got off the phone with Sally Roarty at C.B.I.”
“So, when are we going to get together?”
“Tomorrow morning at eight thirty? I can meet you somewhere halfway.”
“Okay. There’s a little shopping center that’s got a coffee shop on the extreme west side of our county, up in the foothills off of highway seventy three. It’s just a little way up the mountain from where Sheila’s body turned up in that outhouse. I think it’s called Evans’ Coffee Shop.”
“See you there.”
On the following morning the two detectives met in the front of Evans’ parking lot and shook hands. Welch was impressed with Reilly. He looked like a real cop. He stood about five feet ten inches tall, had a firm grip when he shook hands and, like a lot of police officers, his shoulders looked like he’d lifted a few weights. He had light blue eyes under heavy eyebrows and Welch figured it’d be pretty tough for a suspect to fool him with a bullshit story.
“I’m buying. You had breakfast?”
“I just want coffee.”
They walked inside and encountered Bill Evans at the cash register.
“Hey, Detective Welch. I saw on the news last night. You found out who killed that lady up here. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, but you should really thank this man right here. This is Detective Steve Reilly with Park County.”
“Well, hey, now, I’m pleased to meet you, Detective Reilly. Welcome. You guys want coffee?”
“Likewise. Sure, we’ll have two coffees, black. Okay if we pick our own seats?”
Evans waved his hand toward the nearly empty dining area. “Sure, make yourselves at home.”
They found a table big enough to seat six and began to lay out their notes. Welch asked if his new partner had turned up any more background information on Slaikovitch.