Dog One

by Jim Riley

  I nodded but wasn’t buying it. I was in town on a murder case and a bullet had just missed my ear by less than a foot. Too coincidental. I didn’t say anything, though. After he got through with his explanation to me, the officers started disappearing pretty fast. He asked me if I wanted to be contacted by someone in Admin the next day, but I told him no and thanked him for the quick response.

  “What do you think?” I was talking to Bell after all the other cops had left the scene. He, Kelly, and I were still standing by my Expedition.

  “Don’t know. Could have been a stray round. But to be honest with you, we don’t have many turf problems or drug deals right around here. Who knew you were going to be in town?”

  It was a good question and one I had already thought about. “Besides you and your Lieutenant, Mrs. Gittleson’s attorney, and I assume Mrs. Gittleson.”

  “Well, I was at home with my wife and my LT is not that good a shot.” It was a joke meant to lighten the mood, I was sure. But he had hit the nail on the head with what he didn’t say and he knew it.

  “That bitch tried to kill us.” It was Kelly, and I think she was just now catching on to what Bell and I were thinking.

  “Maybe,” I said. Bell just shrugged.

  “Maybe, my ass. It walks like a duck, it quacks like a duck, and it looks like a duck. And that fucking duck tried to kill us.”

  Bell laughed at the unintended rhyme. I really think he was zeroing in on Kelly.

  I heard back from Moen that next morning, as I thought I would. However, unlike I had hoped, not only was he not going to let me talk to her at all, he didn’t seem to have any further interest in me either. That meant something, but I’d have to think on it a while. He also told me that my request to look at my victim’s office, which was in his home, was not going to be acceptable either. This guy either already knew all of the answers to any important questions there were, or knew for a fact that his client didn’t do it, or knew that she did and I’d never be able to prove it. Either that or he was playing a very risky game with her freedom. He told me that I could pursue a search warrant if I thought I needed to, but that was the only way I was getting into the house. I told him I assumed that a voluntary DNA sample from Mrs. Gittleson was probably going to be out of the question, then. He didn’t reply but wished me a safe journey back home. I started to ask him if he or Mrs. Gittleson owned a 9mm handgun but figured I might save that for later.

  I was quickly running out of people that I felt I needed to talk to. I’m sure I could have found others, but road trips suck and I think Kelly was tiring of my lack of conversational skills as much as I was getting tired of her chatter. But I decided I could not go back home without at least driving by the victim’s house. Call it idle curiosity, but I just couldn’t.

  It was a very large Victorian home, and although it was beautiful, it looked a little out of place situated among all the older ranch-style homes. Nevertheless, it was nice. It had a medium-length driveway that circled in the front. I always liked those. I pulled to the curb across the street and shut off the engine. Kelly was unusually quiet. To the point that I eventually asked her if she were okay.

  “Yeah, I’m all right. You think she was the one that tried to kill us?”

  I guess it was her first-near death experience. However, if you consider that she was on the other side of a two thousand pound steel vehicle, her death experience had not really been very near. But I guess it made an impression on her.

  “I really don’t know. I don’t really like the random shot idea that much. But it’s a long jump to say it was her.”

  “I still think it was.”

  It had gotten quiet again when we saw a female come out of the house and get into a green Honda Civic parked in the drive. She was dressed casual in jeans and a ski jacket and had a box in her arms. She pulled out and I fell in behind her. I didn’t know exactly what I had in mind and told Kelly that when she asked. We followed her to an apartment building about five miles away. I remembered from somewhere in the back of my mind that Gittleson’s bio had not included a kid. I didn’t know exactly who she was, but what’s the worst that could happen. I went to the door of the apartment she had disappeared into.

  She opened the door on my first knock and I held my badge up for her to see. I also made sure Kelly was in plain view, hoping that the sight of a woman may help in case she was concerned. I saw she’d been crying.

  “Can I help you?” There was no fear in her voice, just some confusion, which told me she was probably not any kind of career criminal, had not recently committed any crimes, and probably didn’t have any dope in the house, save a bud of marijuana or two.

  “Hi. I’m Detective Moffat and this is Detective Bush. May we come in and talk to you for a minute?”

  She didn’t even hesitate and invited us in. Which meant there were definitely no drugs in the house.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Well, we are investigating the death of Mr. Gittleson, and I thought if possible I would ask you a few questions.” I still didn’t know who she was and hoped I didn’t give that away before she gave me a hint. Telling her I followed her from the house may not be the best way to start our relationship.

  “Okay, but why are you investigating Mr. Gittleson’s death? I thought he died in Colorado?”

  I sensed a problem and took my time getting seated on the couch while I thought out my questions.

  “What do you know about Mr. Gittleson’s death?”

  “He died while he was on a skiing vacation in Colorado.”

  I nodded and considered my next question. I was going to tell her eventually that he was murdered, but I needed to figure out a little more first, assuming she was going to go along. “What was your relationship with Mr. Gittleson?”

  Apparently, she had tired of just going along and asked, “Why are you asking me about my relationship with him, and why are you investigating his death if he died in another state?”

  She wasn’t quite as naïve as I thought she was going to be. “I’m from Colorado. I’m a cop from Eaglenest P.D. I’m here asking questions because it appears that Mr. Gittleson was murdered.” I stopped and let it sink in. I knew from experience that everyone handles it differently when you drop information like that on them. What is always the same, though, is the end result.

  “What?!”

  That was the end result.

  “Mr. Gittleson was murdered in Colorado and we’re trying to find out why. We were hoping you could help us.”

  She looked at me, then over to Kelly. Kelly nodded her head and she looked back at me. “I don’t understand. Who did you say you were?”

  I took it slowly and explained again who we were and that we were working a murder. It finally started to sink in. I could see in her eyes she was trying to rectify what I had just told her with what she apparently thought she already knew, which is exactly what I wanted to know. That being, what did she know and who told her.

  Kelly managed to get her name by asking her how to spell it as if she knew what it was but wasn’t sure she had it down correctly. The ruse sort of fell apart when the girl spelled out “Connie Smith,” but she didn’t seem to notice or at least didn’t show it. Maybe she was just still thinking about what I’d just told her. Anyway, it worked, and Kelly followed up by getting the rest of her information for our report.

  I finally got her to tell me that she had been working for Mr. Gittleson as a paralegal and had worked for him for almost a year to the day. After Mrs. Gittleson returned from her vacation, she had told Connie that Mr. Gittleson had died in a skiing accident and her services would no longer be needed. She had only today gone back over to the house and collected what few things she had in the desk that belonged to her.

  “What day did she tell you about Mr. Gittleson being dead?”

  She was thinking hard, but I wasn’t sure how much her memory was being distorted by her world suddenly being turned upside down. Finally, she said, “It
was on a Monday.”

  “You sure?”

  “Not positive, but pretty sure.”

  “How are you coming up with that date?” It was a technique I’d learned to help establish how a person came to remember something. Sometimes they didn’t even realize how or why they remembered an event. Usually it was associated with something but they weren’t necessarily making the connection in their conscious thoughts. “I remember coming into work expecting to have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “When exactly did she tell you? What time of the day, I mean?”

  “It was mid-morning. I remember because I’d already made the mail run.” She stopped and her mind was working on it, so I didn’t interrupt. “No. It was the Friday before. I remember that I had decided to go in and get a head start on a few things. I wasn’t scheduled to come in until Monday when he was supposed to be back to work, too, but I knew that I was going to have a lot to do to catch up. I remember I was surprised to see Mrs. Gittleson there since they weren’t supposed to be back until Sunday morning.”

  I saw a tear well up in her right eye, but it didn’t quite get big enough to break free. I kept quiet. I had a feeling she wasn’t through.

  “She just came in and told me. Just like that.” The tear broke free and ran down her cheek.

  “What exactly did she say to you?”

  She shrugged. “That he’d skied into a tree and died from the impact. But you’re sure he was murdered?” I think she really wanted to believe it was an accident.

  “We’re sure,” Kelly told her.

  “Who?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “You think it was Mrs. Gittleson?” This was what I had been waiting to hear. I wanted her to make this jump in logic for her own reasons, though. It validated the suspicions we had.

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  She seemed to be really dwelling on the possibility. Slowly her head started shaking from side to side. It increased until she had decided. “No.”

  “What made you even consider it?”

  She thought about it again. “I guess because she didn’t tell me the truth. I don’t know?”

  “What makes you so certain she wasn’t involved?”

  “Well, she wasn’t there, for one thing.”

  “Maybe she had someone do it?”

  She was shaking her head again. “I just don’t think so. I mean, she can be a little cold sometimes, maybe more like a stuck-up attitude. But kill Mr. Gittleson? I just can’t see it.”

  I didn’t want to push her. If she got to the place where she thought the wife did it, then fine. If I pushed her she might become defensive, and I still had a lot more questions. I changed the subject.

  “How well did you know Mr. Gittleson?”

  “Well, like I said, I worked for him a year.”

  I had to be delicate, but I had to ask. “Did you know him, uh, on a personal level?”

  She wasn’t that naive and knew exactly what I was asking. However, she didn’t seem offended. “No. I mean, he never hit on me, and I obviously wasn’t interested in him. I mean, I have a boyfriend and everything.”

  I decided I may want to pursue that line of questioning later but I wanted to move on. “Do you have any idea why anyone would want your boss dead?”

  “He had a lot of people that didn’t like him. I mean, in his line of work he made a few enemies, I guess.”

  “Being a lawyer, you mean?”

  “No, not just that. The cases he took on. Mr. Gittleson used to be an ACLU attorney. He had a lot of money and didn’t really need to work. He just liked it. He only took cases that he felt like were important. At least to him.”

  “Cases like what?”

  “Oh, freedom of speech, discrimination, freedom of religion, those kinds of cases.”

  “Any of these enemies mad enough to kill him?”

  She smiled. “Probably lots. He had a way of making people mad. Mainly because he was a good lawyer.”

  I could understand how that would make some people mad. “Any cases going on right now that may have provoked what happened?”

  She frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t really discuss what he was working on because it’s privileged.”

  “I thought it was only privileged between an attorney and his client.”

  “Well, technically, maybe. But since I worked for the attorney, I owe it to the client to respect that privilege.”

  “It may have something to do with his murder.”

  She pondered on it for a few minutes. “I can tell you that he was working on a case where a Jewish Foundation was wanting to build a Holocaust museum, and there was an organization trying to block it. Mr. Gittleson was representing the Foundation. Did you know that Mrs. Gittleson has a boyfriend?”

  It was from left field, and I absolutely was not expecting the change in topic. I also didn’t know if I wanted to tell her I already knew. “Tell me about him.”

  “Late twenties. Maybe thirty. Medium height and build. Blond hair and a beard.”

  “Long hair and a full beard?” Tell me it’s so.

  “No, shorter hair and a goatee. Maybe a mustache. Yeah, a mustache, too.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know, but he drives an old blue clunker.”

  “How do you know it’s her boyfriend?”

  She looked over at Kelly. “Girls just know that stuff.”

  I never did get Connie to the place where she said she thought the wife did it. But she was definitely toying with the idea. If she had any more information she probably would give me a call. I think she really wanted to help.

  “She did it.” It was Kelly after we’d gotten back in the Expedition.

  “Yep.”

  “We going to be able to prove it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where to now?”

  “Rancher’s steak house. I just have to have one more of those steaks before we head home.”

  The trip home was not nearly as annoying as the trip down. Mainly because we talked about the case more than we talked about anything else. There were several things we really needed, and none of them were in our power to get at the moment. A search of the victim’s house, DNA from the wife, and most importantly, that blond-haired boyfriend. It seemed Kelly and I were the only ones in the world that really wanted to solve the damn case, and everyone else was going out of their way to hinder it.

  When we got back, I laid out the new information to the DA’s Office. Deputy DA Howard Petrowski was not only not impressed with the new information we had, he hadn’t been too concerned about me getting shot at either. I wasn’t asking him for permission to torture the lady, just get me into her house and get a sample of her blood. I told him to strap on a pair and sign the damn warrant. He told me to get out of his office and come back with more probable cause. Damn idiot.

  Chief Stalone had taken the news of me getting shot at pretty seriously, but only from the perspective of damage done to a city vehicle. He told me it would have been easier to explain if I had been in a rental and wished now he’d made me fly. I told him I appreciated his concern. Toby had expressed real concern for Kelly and me both. Tish was pissed because I waited until I got back to tell her.

  Bell called me a couple days later. He was on his day off and calling from home. It wasn’t good news.

  “I put the word out on the boyfriend like I told you I would. Short version is he’s in the wind.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Car’s gone. So I went over to the apartment and did a knock and talk. The shitbird living there wasn’t really any help.”

  “Did you get a name?”

  “Bobbie. No last.”

  “That’s it, Bobbie?” I know I sounded ungrateful, but I’d had all the disappointment I could take for one week.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I leaned on him and I don’t think he was holding out on me. Said Bobbie was a friend of a friend that needed a plac
e to crash. He let him sleep on the couch a few nights. I’m looking for the mutual friend, but I’m guessing it’s going to be a dead end. Especially since I can’t put any company time into it.”

  I could tell Bell was truly apologetic for not coming up with anything, and I sure didn’t want to add to his misery or seem unappreciative. “Hey, I appreciate what you did. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”

  “Yeah, well anyway, sorry. Hey, about your partner, Kelly. She’s single, right?”

  “She’s a lesbian.” I had no idea for sure one way or the other, but I’d try and run interference for her anyway.

  “That’s no problem, so am I.” We both laughed, but him a lot harder than me.

  The case had slowed down to the point that by mid-February, I had turned it back over to Kelly. I hated to do that but felt disloyal to Randy and the other investigators in the Division for sloughing cases. It’s not like they were overburdened with cases, but carrying someone else’s work can really piss you off after a while. It was fair. I had expected Kelly to be a little excited about owning the case again, but excited would’ve been a stretch. She acted almost like I was abandoning her. I explained to her that if anything in the case broke open, I’d come running. In the meantime, she could continue to look through the financial information for clues. If she found something, I was just down the road. She still didn’t seem too enthused, and I wondered if the 9mm through the car window was still bothering her. As I walked away from the Sheriff’s Office, I felt as though I was letting Mr. Gittleson down. I’d only worked eight homicides in my entire career, but I’d solved them all. I really didn’t like not solving this one.

  Chapter Thirteen