by David Keith
But over the next couple years, as Jack became more and more involved with his career at the PD, things changed dramatically. He landed a coveted position within the department working undercover, but the assignment took everything he had, both physically and emotionally, leaving him with very little time or energy for his young family. The time he did spend at home was spent self-medicating, with Southern Comfort being his medicine of choice. As time went by, Jack’s drunken spells became more and more prevalent and the result was a very troubled marriage. Finally, on a cold January night, Jack returned home from working a double shift, only to find his wife and young daughter gone, never to return.
So, Jack Keller worked harder. The department was all he had.
“Come in,” McCallister called out from his computer screen after hearing a rap on his office door.
“Sorry, Captain, quick question.”
Mick looked up and saw Keller holding his cell phone, pointing to the email displayed on the screen.
“What’s this shit?”
SEVEN
Mia spent much of her weekend at the office reviewing everything relative to the Lombard case in anticipation of the meeting with Keller she knew would likely happen Monday. She needed to get off to a good start with him, or he’d eat her alive—or worse, humiliate her in front of the other investigators.
She thought back to her meeting with Mick. He had suggested she look at the suicide angle, essentially to eliminate it as a possibility. She opened the Lombard file on her computer to find the next of kin. The report showed the medical examiner had notified a nephew in Salt Lake City. She dialed the number, got a voice mail, and left a message. She didn’t say specifically what she needed to ask, but she knew from experience that people generally called back when police investigators left messages.
Mia turned her attention to the accident report. A few minutes later, her office line rang.
“Investigator Serrano.”
“Uh, Ms. Serrano, this is Tim Neuhaus returning your call.”
“Thanks, Mr. Neuhaus, I appreciate you getting back to me so quickly.”
“You said you had some questions for me about my uncle?”
“Yes, I’m in charge of the investigation into his death.”
“Investigation? I was under the impression it was an accident.”
“Well, our office looks into all traffic related fatalities. I have just a couple of quick questions, if you don’t mind—just for the record.”
“Okay,” the nephew said tentatively.
“First off, are you the only next of kin?”
“I am. We were all each other had, family wise. My father died of a stroke when I was very young. My mother passed away my freshman year in college, so Uncle George stepped in, more as a mentor than anything. He paid for my college, hounded me about grades, and helped me with my career choices.”
“So, were you close to your uncle?”
“Somewhat, but I’m in Utah and he was there in Colorado—so the visits were somewhat infrequent. But we talked quite a bit on the phone.”
“When was the last time you saw your uncle?”
“He drove out and spent a week here with my family for the Fourth of July. Our kids are three and four. They called him Grandpa George…”
Tim Neuhaus started to choke up.
Mia tried to offer sympathy, but it was never easy over the phone. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“I just don’t know what we’re going to tell the boys.”
“Mr. Neuhaus, when you last saw your uncle, how was his health?” Mia tried to transition to her key question gently.
“His health seemed fine when we saw him in July. The kids were a handful and he got a little winded, but we had a great week. Why do you ask?”
“Were you aware your uncle had cancer?”
EIGHT
On Monday afternoon, Gabe Diamond was sitting in his office in Kansas City reviewing insurance payout reports when the email arrived from claims. Diamond was in his late sixties, having retired a decade earlier from the Kansas City PD. He was a gifted investigator and was quickly hired by the Midwestern Life Insurance Company after leaving the force. Before long he rose to the level of lead investigator for the Western U.S. territory. As such, he oversaw a team of sixteen insurance investigators, each with the primary duty of sniffing out insurance fraud in an area that covered twelve states.
Diamond queried the database for the policy. It had been taken out three years earlier—one of two $2 million life insurance policies on business partners at an ice-making operation in Castle Springs, Colorado. Nothing too unusual about that; it was a fairly common practice for small businesses to take out life insurance policies on the primary stakeholders.
He pushed the intercom button on his phone.
“Giselle, I need you to find a number for the Rocklin County Sheriff’s Office in Colorado. See if you can me patch me through to someone in their traffic investigations unit.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know when I have someone on the line.”
Diamond sat back and pondered the situation. It was probably nothing, but he thought he should at least have a conversation with officials investigating the accident.
“I have someone on line three.”
“Good afternoon. I need to speak to the investigator handling the fatal traffic accident involving a Mr. George Lombard.”
“That investigator is on another line, maybe I can help you. My name is Larry Voss—I’m assisting on the case.”
“Mr. Voss, my name is Gabe Diamond, and I’m with the Midwestern Life Insurance Company. Three years ago, we wrote a life insurance policy on Mr. Lombard in the amount of two million dollars. We received a call today from the beneficiary on the policy—a Mr. Scott Lennox—who co-owned a business with Mr. Lombard there in your area.”
“What can I do for you?’ asked Voss, his interest piqued.
“Our claims manager says Mr. Lennox called our offices today asking when he would be receiving the proceeds from the policy. The claims rep tried to explain that it would likely be several weeks before a check would be issued, but that was not acceptable to Mr. Lennox. From what I was told, he became extremely hostile, threatening lawsuits and so on. The rep described his reaction as way over the top, so I was alerted. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I should perhaps give you a call as you may want to red flag it.”
“Well, I appreciate that, Mr. Diamond. Would it be possible for you to get us a copy of the policy application and paperwork?”
“Sure, I can do that,” he said. “What’s your fax number?”
“Hey, Mia.”
“Come on in, Larry. I’m going over the discrepancies with the autopsy findings before I meet with Jack Keller. I just wish I had more to go on—I mean, there’s no way this happened the way Sullivan says it did. But I can’t figure out what we have here.”
“Would a possible motive and potential suspect help?” Voss replied, holding out some newly faxed pages from the Midwestern Insurance Company.
“You have something?”
“I got a call from an insurance investigator an hour ago who says there is a rather sizable life insurance policy on our dead guy. Two million big ones—all to be paid to Lombard’s business partner. And this partner, a guy named Scott Lennox, called the insurance company this morning raising all kinds of hell and demanding his money. The investigator was concerned enough about the guy’s behavior to give us a call.”
She had just enough time to go over the insurance paperwork before she met with Keller.
McCallister grabbed a chair and dragged it over to Keller’s desk. Jack had spent the weekend stewing about Mick’s email on Friday requesting he partner with Mia Serrano on the George Lombard death investigation. He wanted to let the Captain know just where he stood on the idea of teaming up with a lowly traffic investigator.
The captain straddled the folding chair in a backwards fashion, set his coffee down on Keller’s desk and f
olded his arms across the chair back. Keller sat back, feet firmly planted on his desk. McCallister leaned in towards Keller and began to speak.
“I know you aren’t happy about this, Jack, but we have an opportunity here, a chance for you to mentor someone who I think is a pretty good investigator. So, I need the two of you to work together on this case. She knows you’re the lead, and she’s excited to work with you—come on, you’re a legend around here. I know I can count on your experience and professionalism, correct?”
“I don’t typically partner with someone with zero homicide experience. I mean, no offense to the lady, but come on—she’s working traffic for God’s sake. Frankly, it’s beneath me.”
“Look, Jack—I know you’d rather have me just reassign this case to you so you could go solo on it, but I really need you to partner with Serrano on this. You’ll remember I took a chance on you seven years ago, and it has worked out pretty well for everyone.”
“Jesus, Captain, she’s just going to get in my way. Let me work this thing on my own. It’ll be better for everyone.”
“No, Jack. You’re going to partner with her and you are going to mentor her. Got it?”
Keller stared at McCallister and let a few awkward seconds go by.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good. Let’s get Mia over here right now, and we can do a little debrief on where she is with this case. Will that work for you?”
“You’re the boss.”
Captain McCallister grabbed the phone off Keller’s desk and called Mia’s extension.
A few minutes later, Mia Serrano walked into the bullpen.
“Gentlemen,” she offered, nodding to the men, feeling at that moment like she was back at the academy.
Mick McCallister stood and pulled up a chair for her.
“So what have we got so far, Investigator Serrano?” Keller asked. His condescending tone prompted a stern look from McCallister.
The glare was enough for Keller to take his feet down off the desk and pay attention.
Mia fired up her laptop and confidently presented the facts of the case, starting with the narrative of the accident and the interview with Lisa Sullivan. From there she talked about Sullivan’s car, specifically mentioning the windshield was found intact. The car had checked out mechanically; there was no malfunction with the brakes or steering. Next she covered the autopsy, highlighting Lombard’s injuries and cancer diagnosis. She noted the ME’s report listing the internal temperature of Lombard’s body at barely 89 degrees and lividity that appeared inconsistent with the final resting position of the victim.
As Mia gave her summary, Keller peered closely at the supporting digital images on her laptop.
“That’s not a rifle someone would take deer hunting,” he said enlarging the image. “That’s a damn pea shooter. No way would you try to bag a deer with that thing. And that ammo—it doesn’t fit the weapon. Looks to me like someone staged this to look like the deceased was out there hunting that morning. Fucking amateur.”
Keller caught himself as the words came out of his mouth. Great, he thought, do I need to watch my language now that I’m working with this woman?
Mia, picking up on Keller’s discomfort, quickly agreed, hoping to put him at ease.
“I was just getting to that. And there’s more—I just learned our victim was an investor in a local ice company. Lennox Ice had a two million dollar life insurance policy on George Lombard. The beneficiary was his business partner, Scott Lennox.
Mick McCallister’s eyebrows shot up as Keller let out a whistle. The captain stood up, slid his chair back to its original position, and said, “Sounds like a pretty good motive to me. Please update me as things progress. I’ll be briefing the sheriff later today.”
Left alone with his new partner, Keller continued to review the evidence. Mia watched him anxiously, as a student would awaiting an assignment from her teacher.
“Good to know about the life insurance,” Keller said. “It could be a big piece of the puzzle. All these pieces are pointing to a homicide.”
Keller peered up at Mia over his glasses. “Good start,” he said. “I suggest we call on Mr. Lennox.”
So far, so good, Mia thought.
NINE
The Lennox Ice Company was located in an isolated industrial area on the east side of Castle Springs. The plant consisted of several long, tall buildings that ran parallel to each other. Sound from refrigeration units, transport trucks, and ice cutting blades echoed throughout the area. Adjacent to these buildings was a main office with a small parking lot in front.
Keller’s unmarked car had seen better days. It rattled through the potholes in the parking lot as he pulled in.
“Follow my lead and don’t bring up any details unless I do first. And don’t mention the insurance.”
“Got it,” said Mia.
They climbed the stairs to the main office and walked through a set of double doors. Inside, a man stood behind a counter, sorting through paperwork. A large doorway behind him opened to a warehouse. The doors were thick rubber with big scratched Plexiglas windows.
“Can I help you?”
Keller flashed his badge. “Yes, I’m Jack Keller, and this is my partner, Mia Serrano. We’re with the Rocklin County Sheriff’s Office. We’re looking for Scott Lennox.”
“I’m Scott Lennox. What can I do for you?”
“We’re investigating the death of your business partner, George Lombard. We won’t take much of your time—we just have a few questions. May we sit down?”
“Why don’t we go in the back,” Lennox said.
Scott Lennox was in his mid-forties, clean-cut and handsome, with dark brown hair and deep-set blue eyes. He dressed in a western-style plaid shirt, belt, jeans, and simple work boots.
He escorted them to a large room behind the reception area. There were no other employees in the administration area. The office was stark, and the sounds coming from the refrigeration units in the nearby buildings were clearly audible. The noise was offset somewhat by the country music being piped into the office.
Mia recognized the song right away. “Back to Texas” was one of her favorites from Tripp Barnes, a popular country singer/songwriter known for his good looks and deep voice.
“I’m not sure what I can tell you. I was shocked. It was a horrible accident.”
Lennox offered them seats at a large wooden conference table but didn’t offer water or coffee. Both investigators sensed Lennox wanted the meeting to be brief. Keller sat in silence looking intently at their potential suspect. The pause was uncomfortable, and Mia fought the urge to fill the void. Keller set the pace and the mood, and he did so effortlessly.
Lennox quickly became unnerved. He shifted in his chair awkwardly. “So, how can I help you?”
“Oh, this is all routine. Paperwork, you know. We have to interview people who knew the victim just to tie up any loose ends for the report.”
“But it was an accident, right?” Lennox asked uncomfortably. “He was hit by a car.”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Keller assured him. “But Mr. Lennox—may I call you Scott?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Scott, we have all these procedures. If it was just an accident involving a car and a pedestrian, we might just call and do all this nice and neat on the phone. But because there was a gun involved, a rifle actually, it opens up a can of worms. The state requires all kinds of forms be filled out if there’s any sort of gun involved. I’m sure you understand.”
Lennox nodded as if he did.
“So, we know Mr. Lombard was hunting that morning. He had a hunter’s vest on, and we found a rifle belonging to him near his body. But we keep asking ourselves why Mr. Lombard was out hunting so early that morning. I mean, it was bitter cold, and he was out there looking for deer? Does that seem peculiar to you?” asked Keller.
“Not at all. George lived to hunt, anytime, anywhere. He’d go out several times a week during deer season. Sometimes just t
o study their patterns. In fact, he kept some of his hunting gear here in his office so he could go at a moment’s notice. I think it was his way of relieving stress.”
“Hmm.” Keller made a few scribbles in his notebook. Mia figured he was just doodling to toy with Lennox but couldn’t tell.
“I don’t hunt, so I don’t really know. It’s not my thing.”
More scribbling.
“So, what exactly did Mr. Lombard do here?”
Lennox eased up a little. “He was my partner. Numbers aren’t really my strength, so he brought a lot to the financial side of the business. I learned a lot from him. We’ve expanded quite a bit over the past three years, mostly because of George.”
“I’m sure you’re being a little modest, after all that’s your name on the door. How did you two partner up?”
“A few years ago, a mutual friend put me and George together. I needed capital for expansion but banks don’t want to give you money unless you don’t need it. He believed in what we were doing here and took a percentage of the company in exchange for the investment. He also helped us on the financial side. He was great with the financial stuff, so he pretty much ran that side of the business. I couldn’t have done this without him,” he said softly.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Jack offered. “You said he handled the finances. Did Mr. Lombard work here in the office?”
“He spent a lot of time here in the early days. But over the past year or so he started coming in less and less. George had other investments, and I think he managed them from home. These days, he’s in two, maybe three days a week. Or was, I guess I should say.”
Keller gave Lennox a moment and shifted gears. “So how much ice do you guys make here in a given day?”
“About eighty tons a day, sometimes more. We service grocery stores, convenience stores, fresh food producers, hospitality, and so on. Cubed, crushed, block. If you want ice, we’ve got it,” Lennox said proudly, smiling for the first time since they arrived.