Major Crimes

by Michele Lynn Seigfried

  “I just told you the story about Archie’s murder and that’s the first question that comes to your mind? I don’t think you’re going to be successful as a private investigator.”

  “You’re a murder suspect and you’re insulting my investigative skills?”

  Insulting Chelsey wasn’t my intention. “I’m just joking.”

  “How much did you drink?”

  “That’s the weird thing. I only recall having two margaritas. Those shouldn’t have made me black out for hours.”

  “Hmm.” Chelsey was deep in thought.

  I waited for her response but after a five-minute pause, I grew impatient. “What are you thinking?”

  “Were you drugged?”

  “By who?”

  “The person who wanted Archie dead.”

  “I don’t know. Possibly.”

  “You’re a detective and you don’t know if you got drugged?”

  “My unit is Major Crimes, not Special Victims. We don’t typically investigate sexual assault cases where drugs are most often used. I’ve never been drugged before. How would I know?”

  “Can you get tested somehow?”

  “Not without calling attention to myself.” I thought about that for a few minutes. Drugs used to knock someone unconscious didn’t typically stay in the body for long. “It might be too late for me to get tested anyway. The drugs may not still be in my system.”

  “What about a normal lab you’d get bloodwork from? I’m assuming you have health insurance that would cover it.”

  “I’d need a script from a doctor, and I don’t have time for that. I need to find out who killed Archie and clear my name.”

  “Wouldn’t proving you were drugged help clear your name?”

  Investigators twisted things to make them fit their own personal hypothesis. Showing I was drugged would’ve made them jump to the conclusion I did something while I was under the influence. Went into a rage or something that I didn’t remember. “No. You don’t know how these things work. I’m better off gathering evidence on my own for now.”

  “Still, how would anyone know you got tested? There are HIPPA laws. Doctors can’t go around telling your business to anyone.”

  “Chelsey, I just need a place to sleep for the night. You don’t need to worry about this.”

  “About that—why are you hiding out at my place instead of going to your police buddies? Isn’t there a cop code or something? Don’t you cops protect one another? Can’t one of them help you?”

  “Cop code? A cop was killed. A very well-liked cop. A chief. Who do you think is going to side with me? They think I’m a cop killer! If I get arrested before I find out who did this, then there is no way I’ll be able to figure out what happened.”

  “You don’t think they’d do their due diligence, investigate thoroughly, and catch the real killer?”

  “You sure do see the world through rose-colored glasses, Chelsey. At least you sound like you believe me.”

  The reality was that I was the last one to see Archie alive. His blood was all over me. The murder weapon was next to my chair. The murderer may have put my prints on the knife.

  “Did you check him for a pulse? Did you dial nine-one-one?” Chelsey looked as desperate as I felt. Here was a woman who owed me nothing, yet she was searching for answers, desperate to find an easy explanation.

  “I did check him for a pulse.”

  “And? Why didn’t you immediately get on the phone and call for help?”

  “There was no pulse, and then…his daughter came into the room and, well, after seeing the grisly crime scene, I can only assume she felt like she lived on Elm Street.”

  “Elm Street?”

  I rolled my eyes. As sharp as Chelsey could be, I wondered if she ever got out of the house. “You know. Nightmare on Elm Street. A horror movie.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “She screamed. I panicked and ran.”

  “You don’t seem like the type to panic. You’re usually as cool as a cucumber. I figured that was part of your law enforcement training.”

  “I know it’s unlike me. But I wasn’t in my right mind. I felt nauseous. It was like the walls were closing in on me. I couldn’t think straight. And that pounding in my head…the worst ever.”

  Chelsey walked away from me. I wondered where she was going. To splash her face with water? I imagined my story was a lot for her to take in. It was a lot for me to take in.

  When I saw her reappear from the bedroom, I was relieved she hadn’t snuck out a window to get away from me. Not that I would’ve blamed her. She was holding a laptop. She sat on the couch, setting the computer atop the coffee table. She searched the Internet for date rape drugs.

  After a few minutes, she tilted the screen toward me. “Says here that this one would give you a terrible hangover.”

  Information about gamma hydroxybutyric acid was on the screen. While part of my basic training included classes on drugs like GHB, I hadn’t remembered much of what I learned since I didn’t normally have to use the information during my investigations. I hunted mobsters, not rapists. Not that they were mutually exclusive, but my team focused on embezzlement and money laundering activities. Much of my time was spent listening to wiretaps and conducting interrogations. Except during assignments where I went undercover.

  “It also says GHB doesn’t stay in your body for more than twelve hours. It’s definitely too late for me to be tested anyway.”

  “Unless you think it was a different drug.” Chelsey retrieved her wine glass and gulped down the rest of the ruby red liquid. She found the bottle and poured the rest into her glass. “Did your drinks taste salty?”

  “Well, yes, the margaritas had salt on the rim.”

  “So, what next? How do we get you out of this mess?”

  “Finding a suspect who would have access to GHB would be helpful.”

  “How does someone get their hands on GHB?”

  “It’s prescribed for narcolepsy.”

  Chelsey raised an eyebrow. “Know any narcoleptics?”

  “Negative.”

  “So how else does one get it?”

  “It’s not hard to make at home. It’s sold on the streets, at raves, and some athletes use it.”

  “Boy. That narrows it down to…what? Ten thousand or more people in the area.”

  “It’s probably better to find Archie’s enemies first, then see if any of them had access to GHB.”

  “Then let’s do that first. Who’s on your list?” Chelsey sat back down on the couch.

  I scratched my head. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. I’m not sure what cases Archie’s had throughout his career. There could be plenty of criminals who were out to get him.”

  “Is there any way to get a list?”

  “I was hoping you or your boss could help with that. Being that you’re private investigators and all.”

  “That’ll require some digging. Are you going to care if I bring Freddy up to speed?”

  Freddy was Bonnie’s uncle and Chelsey’s boss. He was also a retired cop who opened up his own private investigation firm a few years ago. I was worried that he would be gunning for me like other cops were and that he’d turn me in. I couldn’t go to jail; I’d never find out who killed Archie. No one would search for another suspect. The jury of my peers had already tried me in the court of their minds and were on a witch hunt, about to string me up from the bough of the old oak.

  “I’m not sure about that…how do you know he wouldn’t turn me in?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then let’s not go there yet.”

  Chelsey went on a search for a notebook and a pen. I sat down on the couch. My stress levels were taking their toll on my body. I stretched my legs out over the coffee table and tilted my head back.

  Chelsey put ink to paper.

  “What are you writing?”

  “A list of suspects.”

  “Including who?”

  “The wife.
The daughter.”

  “Wasn’t the daughter.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The fear on her face when she found me in the room and her father dead on the floor. The horrific scream she let out. It wasn’t her. She’s just a teenager.”

  “Nonetheless, I’m leaving her there. Haven’t you been watching that TV show, Secrets and Lies? The teenage girl on that show killed her own brother.”

  “Chelsey, that’s television. You know, fiction? Non-reality? Made up stuff?”

  “I’m not taking her off the list. I can eliminate suspects later.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t you roll your eyes at me! I’m trying to help you!”

  Ouch! Scolded! I should’ve been more patient with Chelsey. The magnitude of the situation was making me act funny. “Sorry.”

  Chelsey grimaced, then went back to writing. “Does he have a maid?”

  “A maid? I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Anyone else that you know who would have access to the house? To get that close to him? To stab him with you in the room?”

  “I guess his friends. His family.”

  “I’ll need names.”

  “I’ll jot down the ones I know for you.”

  “Who knew he’d be at the retirement party? Better yet, I’ll need you to write down everyone that was there.”

  “I will.”

  Chelsey actually seemed intrigued. She was focused. Determined. Her eyes sparkled. It made her look hot. “How about co-workers? Enemies?”

  “I didn’t work for Coral Beach for much longer than you did. He started working there right after you left. That didn’t give me time to see what his co-workers thought of him.”

  “I could call Bonnie and ask.”

  Bonnie worked in Coral Beach when I was on an undercover assignment there. She was also one of Chelsey’s closest friends. She could be rude and crude, but I didn’t view her as a suspect. “I didn’t know Bonnie had a beef with him. She was at Casey Prime that night, but not at Savoy’s.”

  “I don’t think she had a beef with him, as you put it. But you know she got promoted to municipal clerk in Coral Beach, right? I could ask her if anyone didn’t like him.”

  “Okay, but don’t tell her I’m here.”

  Chelsey reached for the phone and dialed her friend. They were like hens clucking, gabbing for an eternity. I was beat up from the feet up and didn’t feel like listening. Chelsey was busy writing down names on her list. I was sure it was a waste of time. Finding a killer without having access to my division’s resources would be nearly impossible. But I was going to try. I had something in my pocket that could either mean nothing or lead us to the real killer. A man’s ring. I found it at the scene right before Archie’s daughter walked in. It could’ve been dropped by Archie, but I was hopeful that it wasn’t. Hopeful that it was left by someone more sinister. I wondered if I was grabbing at straws. Maybe there was DNA on the ring.

  I tilted my head back on the couch thinking of the ring and pulled a Rip Van Winkle, falling asleep for what seemed to be a hundred years.

  Chapter 3

  Chelsey

  Bonnie Fattori was a good friend of mine. We met at a former job and became fast friends. I glanced at my watch. It was nearing four o’clock, so there was a chance Bonnie was still at work. I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  A cheery voice answered. Bonnie’s assistant, Dira. “Coral Beach clerk’s office. Dira speaking.”

  “Hi, Dira. It’s Chelsey. Is Bonnie there?”

  “Please hold.”

  I met Dira when I was the municipal clerk of Coral Beach but didn’t know her well. She worked at the police station then, so I didn’t have the opportunity to interact with her. She reminded me of a mouse. Mousy brown hair, medium build, rarely smiled and barely spoke above a squeak. She knew I was Bonnie’s friend, but she spoke in a formal tone on the phone.

  Bonnie picked up the line. “Hey, lady. What’s up?”

  “Dira seemed chirpy today.”

  “I told her to picture maple syrup flowing out of her mouth when she talks.”

  “I guess it’s working.”

  “I really do like her, but she’s just so quiet. She’s coming out of her shell a little…but, still. I mean, I’m a Jersey girl through and through. I’m loud.”

  “I thought that was because you’re Italian.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good reason too—I have loud voice genetics. I’m not around low talkers at home. But I’m sure you didn’t call me to discuss my progress with training my terribly shy assistant.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m calling about Archie. Have you heard?”

  “Of course! He worked here, but you already knew that. The flags are all at half-staff. It’s somber around here. Very sad.”

  “He was a friend of my parents. Do you have any details about what happened?”

  “How much do you know?”

  “Just what I saw on television.”

  “Then you know as much as I know.”

  “Coral Beach isn’t the sleepy shore town that it used to be.”

  “Tsk. Starting from when you became the clerk!”

  Trouble in Coral Beach Village started about the same time as my becoming the municipal clerk there. Bonnie was referring to the dead bodies that kept popping up and the horrific fire that happened in Coral Beach not long ago.

  “Me? It wasn’t my fault there were murderers in town. How about you and your anthrax scare?”

  Bonnie had her fair share of trouble in Coral Beach too. A lunatic sent a letter with white powder to her office and she was kidnapped. The kidnapping had nothing to do with the village, but it certainly wasn’t good marketing material for the municipality. And now, with a murder of a government employee—the head of the police, no less—it didn’t seem like Coral Beach was going to win any Local Government Excellence Awards.

  “Did you go to Archie’s retirement party?”

  “Pretty much everyone here at work did. They had booked out Casey Prime. They spared no expense—open bar, filet mignon. It’s really sad that the poor guy didn’t even have time to enjoy his retirement.”

  “Why was he retiring so young?”

  “A lot of cops do. They put in their twenty-five years, collect their pension, then get jobs in the private sector—bringing in a paycheck along with a pension check, then eventually two pensions.”

  “I didn’t think police chiefs did that too much. All the ones I ever met had held the position until they were too old to work a second job. Archie was fairly new to the position too.”

  “I guess it depends on how much you’re getting paid. Coral Beach isn’t a big town. He did okay, but I’m assuming the job he had lined up paid much more.”

  “But he wasn’t hired there that long ago. And he didn’t even move up through the ranks. He was hired from a different P.D. Do you think someone from within the department was angry that they weren’t promoted to chief?”

  “Nah.”

  “Why not? Usually chiefs are promoted from within.”

  “Coral Beach is more messed up than your love life.”

  “Hey!”

  “Well, it’s the truth!”

  Bonnie had a point. I had a semi-absent boyfriend, an ex-fiancé, and a crush on a friend who was wanted in connection with a murder. But my love life wasn’t supposed to be the focus of the conversation. “Forget about my love life for a minute, Bonnie. Why wouldn’t someone be angry that Archie got the chief’s job over them?”

  “Because there is a superior officer’s union. The unions negotiate for cost of living raises yearly while Coral Beach never gives a decent raise to non-union staff. Over the years, it’s gotten so that the chief makes less money than the employees who report to him since he’s non-union. None of the superior officers wanted the job because they’d have to take a cut in pay and would’ve lost the benefits of being in a union. Their union helps them with gri
evances and negotiates normal yearly raises, clothing allowances, or whatever.”

  “Seriously? The chief gets paid less than…who? A lieutenant?”

  “Yuppers.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  “Yes, it is! Now you understand why no one wanted the job. Coral Beach had to hire from another town that paid a lot less. I’m sure Archie got a higher salary than his previous job, but he certainly wasn’t making what he should’ve been.”

  “So, you know for sure Archie was leaving for another job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Where’s this going, Chelsey? Does my uncle have you working on this as a case?”

  “No, it’s not for work…I just don’t understand how something like this could happen. The guy was trained in law enforcement. How could someone kill him?”

  “Rage?”

  “You heard who the main suspect is, right?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to bring it up though. I know you’re fond of Bryce. I guess it goes to show that you never really know someone.”

  “I find it hard to believe it was Bryce. You worked for Bryce. Do you think he’s capable of murder?”

  “Chelsey, honey. Bryce was a cop. Anyone who owns a gun is capable of murder.”

  “You own a gun. Are you capable?”

  “Sweetheart, under the right circumstances, I could put more holes in someone than a golf course.”

  “I really don’t see Bryce as the type to murder.”

  “Maybe he was provoked.”

  “I still think he would’ve walked away.”

  “Threatened, then? Self-defense?”

  “Why not shoot him then, instead of stabbing him?”

  “Was Bryce carrying?”

  “Carrying what?”

  “Are you sure you’re not a nun who’s been locked up in a convent with no television, no radio, no Internet? No human contact?”

  “What?” What was it with everyone getting impatient with me?

  “A gun, Chelsey! Was Bryce carrying a gun? If he didn’t have his gun, he couldn’t have used it in self-defense.”

  “Oh. I don’t know, I’ll have to ask. But I guess the self-defense explanation would be a reason Bryce could kill someone. I didn’t think Archie was the threatening type though. My parents liked him. I heard he was well liked by everyone.”