"No breaks. We know all of their ID's but we've only been able to interview two people associated with the third victim. We haven't had a chance to talk to any associated with the first or second—who are related by the way—brother's-in-law."
"Seems like you're getting those under control."
Mike knew Rudy was avoiding the obvious and he appreciated it but if he was going to talk to anyone about it, it would be him.
"Go ahead and ask. I know you're dying to," Mike said.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rudy responded.
"The hell you don't. You've been dying to ask me about Suzanne ever since I got here."
"What about her?" Rudy smiled and took another swig from his almost empty beer.
"Well, I fucked up. Royally," Mike said.
"I figured as much. If you hadn't done something stupid you would have said something right away. So, when you say fucked up, how fucked up?"
"I slept with her."
Rudy nodded. “That’s pretty fucked up."
"Wait, it gets better.”
“How could it not.”
“Her name isn't Suzanne Kelly. Her name is Kathryn Stanford and she’s the daughter of victim number two and the niece of victim number one.”
Rudy had the courtesy not to joke. The insanity of those statement checked off as if read from a list sounded ridiculous. He just sat as small squeaks from overdue oiling highlighted his movements as his swing drifted back and forth.
He asked. “What did you find out from Kevin? How did he find her in the first place?”
“The Internet,” Mike scoffed, the response sounded as ridiculous coming from him as it did coming from Kevin.
“You mean it was just random?”
“Apparently so. Some coincidence, eh?”
“That’s a pretty convenient coincidence don’t you think?”
Mike was thoughtful. Given the new information regarding Suzanne, Kevin’s source was too convenient to be merely coincidental. Add on the Berkeley connection and the portrait Daily referred to was starting to take on a different face. “You know what’s really strange?”
“Do I get more than one answer?”
“The night she was attacked I could have sworn they acted like they knew each other. It was so subtle and they never said anything but I just felt like they recognized one another or something along those lines. I just brushed it off as something I imagined.”
“Did you ever ask either of them about it?”
“No. The thought disappeared right after I had it. There was never any reason to ask. In fact, I only just now remembered it when you brought up how convenient that coincidence really is.”
Mike stopped swinging. He stared out in front of him fixated on something non-existent to anyone else. He furrowed his brow and looked down at his feet then closed his eyes. The look on his face was of complete concentration mixed with perplexity like he was trying to see some illusive picture in his brain.
“What is it?” Rudy asked.
“I—I’m not sure. There’s something here but I just can’t put it together.” He opened his eyes and looked over at Rudy.
“What are you thinking?” Rudy asked.
Mike just looked at him but didn’t say anything.
“What?” Rudy pressed.
“Do you think…,” he looked away at the imaginary scene in front of him again.
“I try to avoid it at all costs.”
He finally said very slowly as if the words generated without thought. “Suzanne is linked to at least two of the three murders for sure. The I.A. investigation is investigating evidence believed to be used in the murders. But I have no idea how they’re connected or why for that matter. Why pick these specific items to kill people if not to directly implicate me?”
“I got it.” Rudy turned and pointed up. “Miss Scarlet in the kitchen with the revolver.”
Mike didn’t smile.
“Too soon?” Rudy said.
Unresponsive, Mike swayed back and forth as his brain flipped the pieces around trying to make them fit. “It just feels like the answers are right there but there’s a huge gap between them and I can’t find the bridge.”
“Try jumping.”
“Can you be serious?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Oh, I thought you were just talking in generalities.”
Mike shook his head. “What’s the connection?” He mused more to himself than the less-then-helpful Rudy. “How are the murders connected to the I.A. investigation? Why me?” He stopped swinging, stood and walked away. Then he stopped, turned and stared at Rudy.
Rudy looked over both his shoulders then back at Mike. “What?”
Mike stared at him but did not respond. He looked away.
“What?”
Mike looked back at him, his eyes clear and piercing.
“Ah,” Rudy nodded, comprehension washing over his face. “I guess the gap wasn’t as big as you thought.”
Chapter 40
Mike said his good-byes to Maria and the children and drove to the station. He and Rudy talked through his epiphany but their conversation only served to waiver his confidence. The vagaries of his conclusion required tangible facts and he needed to see the files. Taking the time to celebrate with the Rubio family, while a pleasant distraction, took five hours off the ticking clock and he needed to lock down some answers instead of creating more questions.
Suzanne was the only provable link tying the three murdered men together. Her involvement, either as master or slave, was undeniable. But either as Suzanne Kelly or Kathryn Stanford, she had no link to him or his previous cases. More importantly she had no access to the evidence.
Understanding the evidence in the I.A. investigation also proved straightforward. Even the most yielding minds would admit the probability of stolen evidence unrelated to the murders was so slim it boarded on laughable. The tools of demise were not unique enough to justify their specific use over similar, more readily accessible, devices. They were chosen for a very distinct reason: implicating him. No other reasoning made sense.
Mike conceded that from an outsider’s perspective the link between the two investigations was obvious. Throw in the sex and there might as well be pictures of him and Suzanne hovered over the bodies with bloody knives in their hands. He was not naïve enough to overlook that no matter how convenient. But the evidence was stolen and murders committed before they even met. In fact, the only reason they had met was through the course of the investigation.
He sighed in frustration. Knowing he was innocent was different from proving it. No doubt, Daily already determined a preexisting relationship assuming, as Rudy had, that choosing her to consult on the case was too coincidental to accept. If his ass wasn’t the one roasting over the open flame his thoughts would mirror theirs.
But he wasn’t the one who chose her.
All roads lead to Kevin. He was the one who picked her out of the Internet hat and both he and Suzanne attended Berkeley. Of course, thousands of people attended Berkeley at any given time but how many alumni were actively involved in either investigation?
Question asked. Question answered.
If he made additional concession he might be willing to entertain the argument that Kevin subconsciously recognized her name thereby making her a more appealing choice but that was a stretch. It was easier to believe they colluded to kill the three men than believe the statistical improbability of such a coincidence.
Kevin’s explanation was unacceptable but Mike wasn’t ready to confront him. There was no benefit in sharing his suspicions if he still had no evidence to convict or exonerate him. Confusing the issue with yet another distraction was only doing him a disservice and he needed to keep Kevin focused on other things. Besides, something about Kevin pulling the strings in all this didn’t feel right.
Mike tried to imagine Kevin as some manipulative mastermind only playing the part of dumb rookie as a distractio
n, using his overeducated, underdeveloped personality as an act to further his goals. But it felt disingenuous. Either Kevin was truly a genius and a phenomenal actor or he was so incredibly naïve and vulnerable, that someone else was behind the scenes manipulating him without his awareness.
Nothing made any sense. Kevin hadn’t known him long enough to adopt a frame inducing rage. Plus, he didn’t seem to have any connection to the murder victims. Unless the connection between him and Suzanne exceeded a shared Alma Mater, the level of hatred required to orchestrate such a plan was absent.
It was easier for him to believe someone duped Kevin. His eagerness to please clouded his judgment making him susceptible to manipulation. Underneath his false bravado and obsessive need to prove himself breathed an insecure kid in need of constant validation. A very dangerous combination.
It was possible someone asked Kevin to remove the evidence for some “legitimate” reason. It happened before they met so it was plausible to assume he made no connections at the time. But as their investigation progressed he had to have realized the implications.
Echoing Rudy’s first inclination, Mike immediately thought of Smythe pulling the strings but in the scheme of things he seemed unlikely. Using Kevin would mean he was only once removed from a triple homicide and the potential political implications would be disastrous. Mike doubted Smythe would put that much trust in anyone with his career and future election potential on the line. Besides Smythe was more interested in humiliating Mike. Incarcerating him had a finality to it that wasn’t in line with his previous harassment.
Just thinking the word “conspiracy” sends eyes skyward and was almost impossible to prove. No doubt Daily ran through the same scenarios and discounted a conspiracy as quickly as it was presented. Daily didn’t have the luxury of knowing Mike was innocent regardless of his protestations. Mike had to either prove his innocence or give him an equally plausible scenario thereby shifting their investigation elsewhere.
Kevin was the obvious sacrificial lamb but he bristled at the idea. With his own innocence in question he couldn’t bring himself to displace the guilt without proof or legitimate provocation and Daily would need more than his suppositions. Kevin’s annoying behavior wasn’t commensurate with that kind of retaliation.
There was always Molly Stanford, Suzanne’s prodigal daughter. If he believed Suzanne’s story it made sense that Molly was taking revenge on all those she felt responsible for her abuse. Maybe she had lured Suzanne to the location of the second body to place her at the scene. The notes could also have been left to implicate Suzanne given her profession.
“Ahh,” Mike growled low. Might? Maybe? Could? Guessing, that was all he was doing. His active imagination didn’t mean anything. He needed something he could prove. All he had was the workings of a crazy murder mystery and this wasn’t fiction. This was real.
As he pulled into the parking lot he realized the girl who called Suzanne might not even be her daughter. Suzanne said she resumed her search and looked everywhere, using the internet, contacting lost children foundations even going so far as posting flyers. There was always the possibility someone wanted to extort her or set her up knowing she would be vulnerable to anyone pretending to be her daughter.
She said the girl knew all the right information to convince her she was telling the truth but who’s to say someone with too much time and half a brain couldn’t have done some research. He never read anything Suzanne submitted or posted and she could have inadvertently given away relevant information that someone could use later as a form of proof. It was farfetched but worth looking into.
The phone on his desk was ringing as he walked into his office. The caller ID showed Captain Madison’s name in solid block letters. Mike hesitated. The only times he saw the Captain’s name on his phone was when something was high-profile or wrong. At that moment he wasn’t interested in hearing about either.
“Hey Cap,” Mike reluctantly answered.
“Good Morning Mike. How you holding up these days?” Captain Madison responded.
“Still kickin’,” Mike said. A discarded pen lay on the papers on his desk and spun it as he spoke.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve got a few things I think we need to talk about.”
“Anything specific?”
“Mike, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I think you and I should have dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” It was an odd request and Mike heard the ticking of a time bomb in his head.
“I’d rather talk to you in private.”
Ka-boom.
“I don’t want people knowing you’ve been in my office,” Madison continued. “God knows there’s enough gossip going around here. It’s like working in a freakin’ beauty parlor. I thought it would be better if we were on neutral territory with a couple of drinks between us.”
Mike mulled before responding. He liked and respected Captain Madison and the fact that he was going out of his way to be discreet could not be discounted. Madison had a genuine fondness for his “team”, as he always referred to them, and earned the respect and consideration of the entire station. Better suited for street rather than paper work Madison was unparalleled in leadership and direction if not lacking in administrative acumen and organization. A shortcoming that in no way impeded his ability to do what was necessary no matter how difficult or uncomfortable it was. Mike took no comfort in that acknowledgement.
“We can talk here if you want,” Captain Madison’s voice filled the silence. “I just thought it would make you more comfortable. God knows it would make me more comfortable.”
“No. Yes. I mean dinner would be fine. Seven o’clock? That Irish place down the street?” Mike asked.
“I’ll meet you there. Thanks Mike.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” It was an automatic response and Mike felt insincere when he thanked him for what he assumed would turn out to be a request for his resignation. But this was inevitable. Captain Madison must be getting Daily’s updates on his interviews. As a matter of political longevity or courtesy, Madison would have to address the accusations with Mike before the handcuffs fell.
He rubbed his left wrist. He could already feel them cutting into his flesh.
Chapter 41
Mike and Kevin drove down to talk to the owner of Treetop Landscaping, the last job Dale Ingerstahl had before going to prison. Once they identified the victims they could strategize the investigation and fill in the holes. Mike hoped this conversation would be the first of many to paint a clearer picture of their victims thereby revealing his own adversary.
During a preceding conversation, the owner told Kevin he remembered Ingerstahl but didn’t know him very well. He did remember meeting his brother-in-law a couple of times but doesn’t remember any other relatives. As an aside he told Kevin he didn’t like either one of them but Ingerstahl showed up and worked hard so he never had any reason to fire him.
It was just past four o’clock when they arrived at the home base of the landscaping company. The asphalt parking lot fronted a tower of stacked ceramic pots ranging in size and color, the earthenware shining brightly in the afternoon sun. Groupings of staked vines, potted annuals and flowering bushes flanked the entranceway leading to rows and rows of crated trees, palms, bushes and every desert botanical available. The air smelled sweetly of wet earth and fertilizer
One of the staff directed them to the office located in the back of the property. Trekking through the makeshift Arizona jungle they saw the white trailer nestled away behind the princess palms. Dirt and dried water droplets covered the white siding while an upturned, orange bucket on top of a stepladder bolted to the ground propped open the front door.
Peter T. Elkins sat behind one of the two desks in the overcrowded trailer when they came in. He stood with an outstretched hand at the mention of his name. Dwarfing Mike in both size and stature Pete Elkins was a hands-on owner with dirty fingernails, sandpaper hands and skin like drying cowhide on a Montana cattle ranch.
He looked like he was seventy but Mike thought he was more likely in his fifties with graying, ash-blond hair made lighter by excessive sun exposure. Mike watched as Pete shook Kevin’s hand almost dislocating his shoulder in the process.
His voice was raspy but pleasant and he smiled at them with what Mike perceived to be a genuine good nature but a slight irritation at being kept from his beloved outdoors.
“Come on in and have a seat. Don’t have a whole lot of time though. Got all those trees and bushes out there. Gotta’ get them all planted today and time isn’t on my side. Thank God it isn’t August though. Shoulda’ been out already but those stupid delivery guys came two hours late and three of my guys didn’t show up. Just cannot get good help these days,” Pete lamented.
“What can you tell us about Dale Ingerstahl?” Mike asked.
Pete shrugged. “Not much to tell. Been, oh, I don’t know, going on eight or nine years since he worked here. Heard he got sent away on some drug charge. Not really surprised. Not surprised at all. Just didn’t show up for work one day and that was pretty much that. He worked for me for about two or three years. Did a good job. Didn’t steal anything. Showed up and didn’t cause trouble. Nowadays that’s pretty much all you can ask for. Whad’ya wanna’ know exactly?”
Pete leaned back on his chair with his hands laced behind his head. His biceps bulged through the worn cotton fabric of his “Treetop Landscaping: From the deepest dirt to the loftiest trees. We take care of your landscaping needs” logo’d T-shirt that was thin as tracing paper from overuse. He reminded Mike of a blond version of the Gaston character from the animated Beauty and the Beast. It was the twins’ favorite movie when they were younger and they made him watch it every time he was there.
“I don’t know if Kevin mentioned it or not but he’s been killed,” Mike said.
“Didn’t know it until the kid mentioned it.” Pete motioned to Kevin. “Too bad. Hear it was pretty brutal. Hate to hear that about anyone.”
This time it was Kevin who spoke. “We just needed to know anyone Mr. Ingerstahl might have contacted while he worked here. He doesn’t have much of a work history and what he does have is scattered so we thought we’d start with the place where he seemed to last the longest. Did you ever meet any of his friends or family?”
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