by L A Dobbs
"And I'm a crackerjack at filing," the eager kid said, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
Sam's attention jerked back to the interview. "Have you ever been out in the field on a case?" Sam asked.
Walker twisted his hands nervously. "I pulled over a couple of speeders, and I helped settle a dispute down at the Piggly Wiggly."
"A dispute?"
"Yes, sir. It seemed Mrs. Winters walked out with a ham she didn't pay for. Mr. Peabody chased her right into the parking lot. But Mrs. Winters, well, she was getting on in years, and her memory wasn't so good. She thought she paid for it."
"I see. So you didn't have to draw your weapon?" Sam joked.
Walker scowled and looked at Sam. "Weapon? I wouldn't pull my weapon on Mrs. Winters."
Obviously, Walker was inexperienced and didn't have a sense of humor. Sam didn't see how the poor guy would fit in, but it was his second interviewee. How many would he have to go through before he would find one that was suitable? Maybe he should reconsider the first guy. He was better than this one.
Sam leaned back and steepled his fingers while Walker rambled on about his exploits at the Piggly Wiggly. Seemed they had a lot going on down in Lewis at that store. Sam's mind wandered to more interesting things like what everyone else was doing out in the squad room. Probably researching something much more interesting than what he was doing in here.
Finally, Walker stopped, and Sam leaned forward in his chair. "Well, I think that about does it."
Sam stood even though the kid had a confused look on his face.
"Don't you want to hear about my filing system? The chief in Lewis says it's one of the best. That place was a mess when I came, and I really revolutionized the files."
"Maybe on the next interview," Sam said. Walker's face turned hopeful at the prospect of a second interview, and a pang of guilt shot through Sam. There wasn't going to be any second interview. Sam put a guiding hand on Walker's shoulder and led him toward the door. "Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch."
"Thank you," Walker said enthusiastically then turned to Kevin, Jo, and Reese, who were hunched over Kevin's computer, gave them an awkward salute, and left. Lucy, who was lying in her comfortable dog bed in the corner of the room, barely raised an eyebrow.
"How did that go?" Jo looked up from the computer. "Are you bringing him back to have me talk to him?"
Her words sounded sincere, but the look on her face told Sam she didn't want to talk to the guy. He thought about toying with her but had mercy.
"Not unless you want to hear about how he almost arrested a forgetful senior citizen who walked out with a ham at the Piggly Wiggly," Sam said. "I don't think he's gonna be a good fit."
But they'd already turned back to the computer. Reese was seated at Kevin's desk, her fingertips clacking on the keys while Kevin and Jo stared over her shoulder.
"What are you guys doing?"
"Kevin had a great idea," Jo shot over her shoulder. At her compliment, Kevin's cheeks turned crimson. "I printed out the bank statements of Mike's secret bank account. He made his withdrawals from the ATM on the corner of Main and Berkeley Street. Always the same ATM."
"That's interesting," Sam had come over to stand next to them and was looking down at the computer, where he could see a video running with an odd fishbowl-like view of the street. "Is that some kind of surveillance video?"
"Yep. It's from the ATM. Kevin thought of it. And Reese..." Jo's voice drifted off. "Well, let's just say she talked to one of her friends and was able to expedite getting the video."
Sam simply sighed. Normally, getting a video like that would take time, but they didn't have time, so he wasn't going to argue. "So what's on it?"
"Check it out. We got lucky. Usually, they record over the video in a loop, but Mike made a withdrawal the day he was killed, and they hadn't looped over it yet."
Sam bent down to look at the screen. In the distorted video, he could clearly see Mike collect his money and turn away then walk across the street. "That's Mike withdrawing the money?"
"Yeah." Kevin sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We were hoping that someone might be with him and it would give us a lead, but he came alone, so it was a waste of time."
Sam's eyes were still on the screen. Mike's car--the brown Ford Taurus--sat on the side street north of the ATM, but Mike was heading in the other direction. "Wait a minute, maybe he didn't have anyone with him at the ATM, but..."
Sam watched as Mike crossed the street and headed toward another car parked on the side street next to the bakery. For a second, he veered out of the line of vision of the ATM, but then he reappeared and got into the passenger seat of the car.
"We didn't watch it long enough," Reese said. "He was meeting someone, and they're in a white Jetta!"
The video flicked off, and then the next person was at the ATM. Reese rewound and stopped on the part where Mike got into the car.
Kevin crouched forward, squinting at the screen. "But we can't see who's driving."
Reese tried enlarging the screen, but it was no dice. They couldn't see inside, especially with the angle and the bad quality of the video.
"Maybe I can have one of the guys I know at school try to enhance this?" Reese said.
"I don't think that'll be necessary." Sam leaned over and fiddled with the arrows until the screen was focused on the front of the car.
"There's the plate number plain as day. Run that number, and we may be one step closer to the killer."
Chapter Twenty-One
The car belonged to a Judy Kendler, who lived on Lower Quail Road just out of town. Too bad Judy died six months ago. Could whoever was using her car be involved with Thorne?
Sam and Jo drove out to the house as a thunderstorm came through. They could see the dark clouds rolling in as they drove up Wolf Hill, and the landscape dropped away to give them a view of the valley with the river below. The sound of thunder echoed across like a giant drumming on a kettledrum. Fat raindrops splatted onto the windshield.
Jo had put her sunglasses on the dashboard, and she held the yellow smiley mug in her lap. Her green eyes appeared luminous in the dark light of the storm. Sam could smell the ozone in the air. A bolt of lightning zigzagged to the ground in the distance, lighting up the sky for a split second. Then another crash of thunder echoed.
"I think we should leave Lucy in the car." Jo glanced back at the dog, who was crouched on the floor in front of the backseat. "I don't think she likes thunderstorms."
"Apparently not," Sam said. There hadn't been a thunderstorm since they'd adopted Lucy as part of the K-9 unit, but the dog looked completely terrified. "It might get dangerous in there anyway." Sam automatically glanced to make sure Jo had her gun belt. "I wouldn't want Lucy to get hurt."
Jo glanced toward their cargo container in back where they kept the police-issue bulletproof vests. "You think we should suit up?"
"No. Bulletproof vests might spook him. We can just go in and act friendly. I figure if it's one of Thorne's thugs, he'll run out the back doors as soon as he sees us. Usually they're not brave enough to be confrontational and prefer to run away," Sam said. Hopefully this one wouldn't be one of the few that preferred a fight.
Judy Kendler's house was a small 1960s ranch style with a porch running along the front that looked as if it had once been lovingly cared for but had recently fallen into neglect. The paint still looked fresh, and someone had made an attempt to mow the lawn, but the lines made by the mower were uneven. The flower beds had weeds sprouting up in between last year's mulch. The white Jetta was in the driveway.
Sam and Jo ran from the car to the porch. At least that provided some shelter from the rain, though they got soaked in the process. Sam knocked on the door. They heard a rustle inside, and he tensed, his hand hovering over his gun.
A young man of about seventeen answered the door. His eyes flicked from Sam to the police car and reflected fear masked by hostility. "Can I help you?"
"Is this
the residence of Judy Kendler?" Sam asked.
The kid crossed his arms across his chest, his face hardening. "What of it?"
The kid was acting brave, but Sam sensed fear rippling underneath.
"Are you a relative?" Sam asked.
"I'm her son."
"What's your name?"
"Tommy. I haven't done anything wrong. The payment is in the mail. So I'm not sure why you're here."
He tried to shut the door, but Sam stuck his foot in it.
The boy scowled as he looked down.
Behind them, the rain pelted on the driveway. Hail had started and was pinging off the white Jetta.
"That's your mom's car, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah."
"Who's been driving it?"
Tommy's eyes narrowed. "What business is it of yours? I have the right to drive it. Mom made up a will before she died."
Tommy's words had a hardness to them that didn't match the look in his eye. The kid wasn't as tough as he was putting out.
"Look, son, you can answer our questions here, or I can take you down to the police station. Which do you prefer?"
Tommy stepped back, and Sam and Jo went in. The inside matched the outside. The furniture was well kept but about a decade old. The living room had a bookcase on one wall, the shelves layered in dust. The television was on, and a puffy comforter lay on the couch. A box of cereal stood open on the coffee table. Next to it, a spoon sat in a bowl. The bowl had a shallow pool of milk on the bottom with some soggy cereal floating in it.
From what they'd found out back at the police station, Judy Kendler had been unmarried. Sam couldn't tell if Tommy was enjoying his new non-parental life, or if Judy had done everything for him and he was just now trying to figure out how to get along on his own.
Tommy didn't invite them in farther, so the three of them stood just inside the door. "What are your questions? I can live here. I have a job. I can pay the bills."
"Who has been driving the white Jetta?" Jo asked.
Tommy swiveled his head toward her. "No one but me. What's that got to do with anything?"
"You haven't loaned the car to anyone? A family member, maybe?" Sam asked.
"No." Now Tommy was starting to get that look on his face. That look that told Sam he was lying. The same look that told Sam to be cautious because from here on out anything could happen. He knew from many interrogations that once the suspect was caught lying, their anger could turn on a dime. He glanced over at Jo and knew she was thinking exactly the same thing.
"Then if you haven't loaned the car to anyone, maybe you'd like to explain why it was at Mike Donnelly's camp and why he was seen handing over money to you on Main Street."
Uncertainty flickered in Tommy's eyes. "What do you mean?"
Sam stepped a little closer, and Tommy backed up. Not so cocky now that Sam had discovered that he was at the Donnellys' camp. "So you were there? And he did meet you in town to give you money? Were you blackmailing him?"
The boy stepped back, holding his hands up. "No. I wasn't doing that."
Sam took another step toward him. "Or maybe you were selling him drugs for his wife's cancer? I hear pot can help with symptoms, and maybe you got your supply from Thorne and passed some along."
Tommy looked scared now. "What? I'm not a drug dealer!"
"But you do work for Thorne, right? That's why you were at Mike's camp?"
"What?" Was Tommy playing dumb? He looked genuinely confused.
"You need money." Sam gestured to the house. "Your mom left a bunch of bills. You need to pay the mortgage. The car loan."
Tommy nodded. "But I have two jobs. I can pay the bills. Plus, I have some money from..."
His voice drifted off. Sam moved in for the kill, stepping even closer so now he was in Tommy's face. Tommy had nowhere to go. The backs of his legs were already against the sofa.
"That's right. You have money from Thorne. You were desperate. With your mom gone and no money, you'd be out on the street. Thorne offered you money to do his dirty work. So you went to Mike Donnelly's camp and killed him."
Tommy collapsed back onto the sofa. His wide eyes darted from Sam to Jo. "Is that why you're here? You think I killed Mike Donnelly?"
"Exactly. He was seen getting into your car last week, and your car was at his camp the very night he died. If you confess now and tell us who was behind it, we'll go easy on you. Maybe you won't get the death penalty."
Tommy burst into tears, his hands covering his face. Sam had never seen a killer cry quite so emotionally before. He glanced at Jo, who had a funny look on her face. She gave a half shrug. Apparently, Tommy's behavior was a new one on her, too.
Sam looked down at him, his voice gentle now. "It's going to be okay. Just tell us what you know about why Thorne wanted you to kill Mike Donnelly."
Tommy shook his head violently. In between sobs, he blurted out, "I didn't kill him. Why would I? I loved him. Mike Donnelly was my father."
Chapter Twenty-Two
All the cockiness had gone out of Tommy, and now Sam thought he looked more like a lost little boy than a murder suspect. Jo had taken pity on him and sat him in the kitchen while she rummaged in the cabinet for tea.
Sam had never seen Jo do any mothering before. He'd always thought of her more as the type that liked to shoot first and be comforting later, but this nurturing role kind of suited her. Not for the first time he reflected on how different Jo was from any of his ex-wives. They'd been more... girly. Something Sam knew nothing about. Jo wasn't girly at all, yet she exuded an attractiveness that men seemed to like. Jo seemed to be oblivious to the fact that she turned men's heads. Maybe that was part of what made her so appealing.
Watching her, Sam felt a strange spark that he hadn't felt in a long time. A spark he didn't want to feel. Especially not about Jo. Sam and Jo's relationship wasn't along those lines, and he wanted to keep it that way. They were friends and worked together. They trusted each other. In fact, he trusted her almost as much as he trusted Mick. But that was as far as it went. Sam didn't have room in his life for a serious relationship, and he liked Jo too much to take it any further when he knew it wasn't anything that would last.
Tommy stopped crying, and they sat around the small kitchen table while he wrapped his hands around the comforting mug of tea. Outside, the rain tapped a steady rhythm on the windows as Tommy sniffled into a tissue.
"Mom always said my father took off. I never knew until she died. She got cancer. Went quick." More sniffles. "She left me a note telling me that Mr. Donnelly was my father and I should contact him. She didn't leave any money, and she was worried about me. Maybe she thought Mr. Donnelly would support me. I don't know."
"And what happened when you contacted him?" Jo asked.
"At first he didn't believe me. But he'd had an affair with my mom, I guess, and he did the math. My mom moved away when she first got pregnant with me and didn't come back for five years. Apparently, he never guessed he was my father. She never told him because he was married at the time."
"So you kind of had a secret relationship with him?" Sam asked.
Tommy shrugged. "We got a DNA test to prove it. He was a nice guy. He wanted to tell his family, but his wife was so sick, he didn't think it was the right time. He was waiting for her to go, and then he would tell the other kids gently. My half brother and sister, I guess." Fresh tears formed in his eyes as he looked around the house. "I was looking forward to that because I don't have anyone else. It was just me and Mom. So, you see, I wouldn't have killed my dad because now I have no one."
Sam wondered about that. He did seem sincere, but Tommy could always try to connect with his half brother and sister. If he did have a DNA test, he could prove they were related. But something gnawed at him. Obviously, Tommy needed money. Sam wondered if Tommy would benefit financially from Mike's death. "When we first came, you thought we were here to repossess the house or the car, didn’t you?"
Tommy nodded. "My mom didn't have an
y life insurance, and there were a lot of bills left over to pay. What little she had only covered that. I have a little, but she couldn't work that last month. She was behind on the mortgage. I have a job at Charlie's Restaurant and a second job at the hardware store, and I'm working to pay off what we owe. But I was afraid I would get it all taken away. And the money from Mike was helping."
Sam had seen the withdrawals from Mike's account, and they didn't add up to a lot. If Tommy's mom was behind and there had been medical bills, that wouldn't be nearly enough. "Where did he get this money?"
"I don't know. He said something about selling things off. I didn't want to take the money, but when he saw my bills piling up, he wanted to help. He couldn't let his family know, so sometimes we would meet at his cabin. He gave me a key for the gate in the road. And sometimes he would meet me at the ATM."
"How long had this been going on?"
Tommy shrugged. "About three months. I went to him a month or so after my mom died, but at first he didn't believe me. I wasn't gonna keep bugging him if he didn't want me. But then I guess he thought about it, did the math, and came to me."
"So you were there the day he died?" Jo asked. "Witnesses saw a white Jetta."
Tommy sucked in a stuttered breath. "I was there. I just wish I'd stayed longer. Then I might've been able to stop someone from killing him."
"So you're saying he was alive when you left?" Sam asked. "And what time was that?"
"Just after supper. Mike got me a ham salad sandwich from the deli. It's my favorite. Mom used to make a really good ham salad." Tommy's voice cracked, and he paused for a second then continued. "But I had to get to my second job at the hardware store and be there by six p.m."
That would be easy enough to check. "Was anyone else there at the cabin? Did you see anyone when you were leaving?"
Tommy shook his head. "I wish I had. Then I could help find my dad's killer. But when I left, he was there all alone."
"Was he upset or depressed?" Jo asked.
"No way. He was sad about his wife but had come to accept that. If you're asking about him killing himself like they said in the papers, I didn't see any sign of it."