The silver-haired man on the right finally spoke up. “Sergeant Leslie, you are one goddamned sharp and obviously dedicated officer. But we’ve gotta go over this step-by-step with you. Okay?”
“Sure enough. Go right ahead.”
Detective Jack Leslie had to give them credit: they were super meticulous in going over and over every detail of events from the moment he phoned for reservations. From the time he had heard the shouts from up the stairway to the time the robber lay on the floor, trying but failing to speak, his life’s blood gushing from many holes…. that could not have taken more than two minutes.
But the investigators spent over an hour questioning him about those events. It seemed to him that these three well-paid people had not another thing in the world to do but take up his time with endless, picky questions.
As Leslie was about to leave, all of them shaking hands in a friendly way, he asked how long it would take to make it clear in a report that he only acted as the circumstances dictated.
“Oh, no more than two or three weeks, Sergeant.”
“Two or three weeks? That’s ridiculous. We have a vicious maniac out there killing San Diegans by shooting out their eyes and teeth with a .22 caliber weapon and you say I can’t help nail that man for two or three weeks yet? Have you people never heard of the ‘trail getting cold’?”
The silver-haired one smiled, “God’s sake Leslie, I was only kidding. Your boss called our boss and she says to take care of it quick. So it’ll be a couple of days or so; probably by Monday the DA will clear you. Okay?”
“Wow! You sure had me going.”
“So, ace detective Jack Leslie, get in your Ferrari and get back to work.”
As Leslie climbed into his PT behind the Hall of Justice, he phoned Ronica.
“Thought I’d check in with you to find out what’s happening with you today,” he said.
“Oh, just cleaning house, doing laundry – nothing much. A friend of mine in a building down the street called this morning to ask if Little Anne could attend a slumber party with her daughter and four other girls. They all are in the same class in the Washington School. Six of them of that same age ought to produce quite the ruckus, just as they have here two – no, three times.”
“She’d stay with them overnight?”
“Oh sure. But she’ll be here in the morning to dress for school and have breakfast.”
“Good. May I then invite you my dear to come over to my place tonight and I can show you I really do know how to cook? If you like pork chops, I can broil them for us. I’ll get really good ones. Then we can watch a movie.”
“Pork chops and a movie? It can’t possibly get more romantic than that. Jack, I’ll be there,” she giggled into the phone.
Leslie reported back to his office and found no one had made any progress with the .22 caliber homicide investigation. The only news was that the latest such death was due to five bullets with the identical markings on them as the previous three murders. They so far had twenty bullets recovered that had all been fired down the same .22 caliber barrel. But they had no fingerprints of a possible murderer; not even partials.
He spent the remainder of the day reviewing the file on the .22 caliber homicides and could not think of a single angle he had somehow missed. That burglar with a rifle or maybe a handgun was not merely lucky, he was extremely good at what he did.
Nearing time to leave, Lieutenant Pat Dean came into the building and asked Leslie to come to his office.
“Shut the door please, Jack,” the Lieutenant said.
“Sure. What’s up, Lieutenant?”
“Chief Slumberjay heard that it seemed awfully sudden you’d be taking up with – oh, and taking out to dinner, the gal in whose apartment there was that murder of her friend. She told me to check that woman out, to make sure there was zero conflict of interest there. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“I’ll be doggoned. You mean to say someone has questioned my integrity? That I’d be….”
“Now, now. Just you take it goddamned easy there, Jack. Nobody’s questioning your ethics, for God’s sake. Nobody. The Chief didn’t get where she is by being blind to possible conflicts and she knows….hell, we all know physical attraction is a powerful force and….”
“Well Lieutenant, I told you right off that she’s a most unusual woman; a very, very special woman. I’d be nutty as a fruitcake not to take notice of her. You talked to her? You saw for yourself she’s just awfully special?”
“Hey Leslie, you’re talking to a happily married man here. I wasn’t visiting to check out her beauty or….or anything. Okay, if in your mind and your heart, she’s super-duper wonderful, so be it. I was there to find out about how in hell you’d come to take out to dinner a gal you’d just met because of a murder in her house that I sent you to investigate.
“She explained to me that she, for one, felt she’d known you for a long time because your late wife talked about you all the time, in the beauty salon. And she said she’d sent you condolence cards after your bereavements. She’d seen you and admired you in the Cecilia Restaurant, also. She told me you were somewhat familiar with her too, because Donna had told you about her. That part Jack; is that true?”
“Heck yes; of course. Donna told me about the scandals of her husband in her divorce; you know, girls love to repeat salacious gossip such as that. Donna also remarked to me that she was an especially beautiful red head. She told me she truly enjoyed working on that lady’s spectacular hair. I’d seen Miss McCarty at her bar in the Cecilia, through the doorway there, although I never did go sit in there, unfortunately. She might not have liked me at all though, if I’d simply been another male customer.”
“Oh, I doubt she’d not have liked you. There’s things called biological chemistry and animal magnetism and it looks to me to be heavily involved here. Now then, I’ve got to tell Chief Slumberjay how far your relationship has progressed by now, if it has. Okay?”
“Lieutenant Dean, I’ll be frank with you. It’s progressed far faster than I could have dreamed possible. She and her daughter had dinner with me Sunday night – a dinner of eggs and such – that she fixed at my condo. Last night, she asked me to dinner at her place and tonight she’s to have pork chops and a movie at my place. How ‘bout them apples, Lieutenant?”
“Well, well. That’s something. She told me she’s not had a boyfriend since her divorce; that she’s found it difficult to trust men since then. She said she’s really only had one male friend and I know that friend happens to be the guy you suspect in the .22 caliber homicides. Does she know that you suspect McCoy?”
“No, I’m sure not. As I reported to you yesterday, her daughter met with him on First Avenue, on a bus bench. But then her mother cautioned her about being his pal since she was no longer friendly with him.”
“Don’t you think it odd that a woman of her obvious assets hasn’t had any love interests until you came around? She admitted to me that she’s in love with you.”
“Wow! She hasn’t said that to me. It makes me think thousands of men are blind as bats – or more likely, they’d have to assume that a woman of such perfect quality is surely spoken for. I’d bet that’s really the case here.”
“Just one more thing Jack. I want you to think a minute before you answer. In your professional opinion, as the very most intelligent homicide detective it’s been my pleasure to know…. do you believe with all your soul, that Veronica McCarty cannot possibly be responsible for the death of her visitor, Jay Williams the Second?”
“Heavens! Such a question! Lieutenant Pat Dean, I’ve told you that what obviously happened to Williams was that after Miss McCarty left to retrieve the wine she’d forgotten, he was looking over her knotty pine cabinetry to see how they had been made, since he did woodworking as a hobby. We have the witness statement of her boss, your friend Larry Stevens, that she was back at her bar to pick up the wine she’d forgotten at just about the time he was shot. In case we thought Stev
ens might have a motive that ends that.
“Someone came in the hall door, he went to see who it was and the intruder shot him dead. I think it could have been McCoy or it could have been her ex-husband, since we know both have .22 caliber rifles. Both could have jealousy as a motive. Or it could possibly be some tenant in the building that saw her leave and intended to do a little burglarizing.
“It’s a shame the bullet that killed Williams was so completely demolished by hitting a hard rib bone; CSI folks tell me it’s useless as evidence so we can never pin it to a particular weapon although it can be analyzed to find out who made it.
“But I can tell you unequivocally sir, Miss Veronica McCarty had no conceivable motive to harm him and could not possibly have killed Jay Williams. Period.”
“Okay, okay. Jack, you’ve made that plain enough. I’ll tell the Chief I agree with you and I understand you’ll be back to work on the case probably in a few days. Thanks for your frankness, my friend.”
“That’s it then?”
“Yep except if you can get your mind off that gorgeous red head for a minute or two, I plan to have a meeting tomorrow – a brain-storming meeting on the .22 caliber homicides. I’ll bring in Detective Kevin Williams since he was loaned to solve the case of that little murdered girl. Also, I’ll have Detectives Charles Fredericks and Brian Alan there. Your Detective Tuason is still in the Philippines, I suppose.
“You sir, are to review for the rest of us what you know so far and I want you to tell us just what took place in these killings. You’ve got the brains Jack; you can give us the benefit of your thinking and maybe one of us might actually come up with an added idea.”
“Kevin Williams, eh? I wonder if he could be related to Jay Williams.”
“I asked myself the same question. Seems ‘Williams’ is just about the most common surname in the United States. Apparently, they’re not even distantly related. See you tomorrow, Jack.”
Leslie went to the grocery merely down the street from his condo, after parking his PT. There he picked up thick pork chops, rolls, frozen twice-baked potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, salad dressings of three kinds and a bag of mixed salad. He found a bottle of the same brand of Merlot wine Ronica had and found it cost only $12.95 at the grocery, though $20.00 at her bar. No wonder the frugal woman went back to get it, he thought. He also picked up a twelve-pack of Miller Lite for his own one-a-day-for-the-plumbing habit.
His condo was of course air-conditioned so when he was inside, he needed the minimum of clothing. He slipped on slacks, a tee shirt and slippers to make the dinner. She showed up just a few minutes late to ring his bell.
“Welcome pretty darling!” he exclaimed and shut the door as he hugged and kissed her.
“Ah, what a man! What a man! It’s so good to hug you without that armor on. You need help with fixing dinner?”
“Nope. Had to show you I was somewhat competent. It’s on the island right now, ready for your feasting.”
It being another warm September day, Ronica was clothed in a summery light dress with every color possible of tulips gracing it. Leslie thought she filled that dress out nicely. Again, he noticed the pretty freckles and the curly flames of hair water-falling down her back. Her brown eyes sparkled and she seemed all-aglow with cheer.
She told him about Lieutenant Dean’s questioning her and he said he’d heard all about it.
They both enjoyed Leslie’s dinner and after wards, they never did get to see a movie at all. Inevitably, the two lovers moved into the bedroom to enjoy his dad’s number one clear pine cabinetry – or at least, the bed in front of it.
Ronica headed for her home at a little after 2 a.m. Leslie accompanied her to her car parked in space forty-six.
He gave her a last embrace and kiss and told her, “You are leaving me with a full heart and a house that has never seemed so empty. Remember every moment, that I love you with all my heart.”
Her tears of happiness flowed again. “I have saved myself for the very best man on earth. I love you!” she said and drove away.
Leslie slept easily and was at Police Headquarters at his usual time the next morning. Just as he parked the PT Cruiser in the lot, his Blackberry rang in his shirt pocket, giving him a start as usual.
“Jimmy!” he said. “Jack Leslie here. Always glad to hear from you. What’s up?”
“Detective Leslie, I seen that Donald McCoy last night; the cabbie you’re interested in. I had a fare up there to the Santa Fe Railroad station on Broadway and I’m positive, I seen ‘im driving a Ford Freestyle jest before my fare got out. Not his Orange Cab sir, but a Ford wagon, and it was one of ‘em Freestyles like you hardly never see. They’re real big wagons, you know.”
“You’re pretty certain, Jimmy?”
“Yes sir; I’d bet my life on it. You know I seen that man and talked to ‘im enough, I should know ‘im when I seen ‘im. That Ford Freestyle, it wasn’t brand new; I’d say it was maybe two, three year old and it had some dings here and there and it was dirty. Cousin a mine, he’s got himself one jest like it ‘ceptin’ my cousin’s is black. McCoy’s was gray so’s I guess dirt don’t show much. We ain’t had no rain fer a spell so’s it’d get warshed cheap. Sure was surprised to see that there Donald McCoy, Sergeant.”
“Do you think he noticed you, Jimmy?”
“No, ‘cause he looked to be fiddlin’ with the radio or somethin’ up front. I’m real sure he didn’t see me.”
“Did you happen to see the license number?”
“No. No, goddamnit, I don’t know why I didn’t think of ‘at. I was so surprised jest seein’ ‘im, I guess. And I had some money to collect from my passenger.”
“Jimmy, you are a wonder and I’ll let you know in the mail I appreciate your keen eyes and smart reporting. So you believe you saw him at Kettner and Broadway. What time was it?”
“Warn’t dark yet. Oh, here’s my trip sheet. Let me see. Yeah, I dropped my fare off at 5:50 there. So that’s when it was, give or take a few.”
“You are one fine fellow and my very good friend. Thanks Jimmy. You’ll be hearing from me. Do you like chocolates?”
“You mean like a box of ‘em? Well no, but my ol’ lady, she loves ‘em.”
“Consider them on the way,” Leslie laughed and hung up.
By 10 a.m. he was ready for the meeting and strolled into Lieutenant Dean’s office. Surprisingly, not only was Dean and the other expected detectives there, Chief of Police Charlene Slumberjay was also present, seated in a back corner.
“Sergeant Leslie,” the Chief said, “Pat here told me he interviewed Miss McCarty and I say everything’s okay; there’s no conflict. He also told me of this meeting and by God, those horrible .22 caliber homicides have been going on long enough that I want to hear just how far along you are with it. Now just you go right on ahead and tell all of us how you think these killings happened and why. Okay Sergeant?”
“Yes Chief, but first I must tell everyone I got a phone call as I pulled into the parking lot here, from a cabbie I’ve been in touch with. It happens he knows our person of interest in these killings, Donald McCoy, fairly well and he told me this morning that he saw him – he’s certain he saw him – by the Santa Fe depot, Kettner and Broadway. He saw him last night about six o’clock.
“But he wasn’t driving his Orange Cab, he was driving a two or three year old Ford Freestyle. The color he said is gray and it was dirty. That’s actually a big station wagon; I have one myself. Ford calls them ‘cross-over utility vehicles’ because they’re built on a car chassis instead of on a truck chassis. It didn’t occur to him to try getting the license plate number.”
“Dammit Jack, that’s a new twist to this, isn’t it?” Lieutenant Dean put in. “Chief Slumberjay, Leslie thinks this McCoy fellow is at least a person of interest and probably a prime suspect in all of these .22 caliber homicides. Detective Brian Alan will begin, right after the meeting, to search the records for owners of such cars. Go ahead Jack.”
&n
bsp; “Thanks Lieutenant. As you know, I wasn’t allowed to visit the latest .22 caliber homicide scene near 25th and C streets. But Lieutenant Dean and Detective Fredericks have filled me in with the ghastly details and it seems to follow the pattern of one other Golden Hill homicide and the two Hillcrest ones,” Leslie said and then continued.
“Interestingly, our forensic folks have cleverly lifted invisible shoeprints off two of the scenes; shoes that don’t belong to the victims. But unfortunately, the prints are from Costco’s ‘Court Classic’ athletic size 8 ½ shoes that they sell by the million for $14.99 a pop. Heck, I have two pairs of them myself.
“The killing on Juniper Street Sunday morning is altogether different except that it was a .22 caliber long rifle bullet that killed him. CSI tells me they are quite certain it was made by Remington Arms and it was of the exact same batch as all the others were made. But they’ve got to test further to provide positive evidence. That’s the tie we have there to the other .22 caliber homicides; all of the bullets were made by Remington.
“They also tested Winfred McCarty’s rifle and found the bore of his barrel so scratched from using a faulty steel cleaning rod, that it could not possibly have fired the bullets they’ve gathered. Also, his ammunition was made by the Marlin Company, not Remington.”
“Excuse me Sergeant,” the Chief said, “but I don’t know who this McCarty is.”
“Ma’am, he’s the owner of the building in which Mr. Williams was killed and he’s the ex-husband of the woman whose guest Mr. Williams was. I know he’s jealous of men attracted to his ex-wife and I had his .22 caliber rifle brought in for testing. But he seems cleared now.”
“Thanks Leslie. Please go on,” Chief Slumberjay said.
“It puzzles me why anyone would use so light a weapon for killing another human. Jay Williams was a big and an exceptionally strong man, yet that little bullet tumbled and tore his heart up and he apparently died instantly. CSI decided that bullet, as well as all the other twenty bullets recovered, were fired with the gun muzzle no more than an inch and half away from the victim. Our murderer is nothing if not consistent.
The .22 Caliber Homicides: Book 1 of the San Diego Police Homicide Detail featuring Jack Leslie Page 11