A Cincinnati Cold Case

by R. W. Nichols

  Where were the old guys when you needed them? Where was anyone that knew and would vouch for him? He was the innocent victim here, but they sure weren’t treating him that way.

  Jimmy resigned himself to the fact that it was going to be a long afternoon.

  Chapter 29

  Jimmy stayed in bed late the next morning. After hours of questioning, broken only when a few of the older officers back at the post and Paul finally stepped forward to vouch for him, he’d been allowed to return home. After that, frustrated and angry at the way he’d been treated; he’d slept fitfully. Around four he’d slipped into a deep sleep and hadn’t awakened until eight, two hours later than his usual time. Surprisingly, he felt refreshed and after a quick shave during which he studied the bruising and decided it didn’t particularly hurt his appearance (he was getting used to it), he swallowed a whole-wheat bagel with peanut butter and headed out, whistling, to the office. It never failed to amaze him that no matter how bad something seemed in the middle of the night, it always looked better after a few hours sleep and a nice breakfast.

  The birds were singing and the sparkle in the air promised a spectacular day. Jimmy’s mind went straight to what needed to be done on the Ervine case. He couldn’t help feeling pride that the case was going so well. The question was whether to approach the bodyguard Purdue again, but he quickly ruled that out. It wasn’t absolutely necessary to get him on board and besides, Jimmy didn’t want to lessen any reward that Ms. Ervine would give Patricia. The nurse had been very cooperative and truly needed any compensation allowed.

  The DNA angle remained to be followed up on. He would have to figure out how to procure a sample from a known descendant of Wurtsmith. His plan was to go over the list of the man’s kids and see if any of the names popped out at him. Of the seven listed in the court documents, one of them might be willing. Otherwise, the attorney, Avis Clough, would have to do his thing, which was to go to a judge and get a court order to force a sample.

  Jimmy frowned. These were society people. They wouldn’t take kindly to being forced into anything they didn’t feel like doing. It would be a battle royale. Jimmy wondered how long these families’ money would keep them from doing the right thing. And if there would be any left by the time it was over.

  He considered making a repeat visit to the lab to lean a bit harder on Luther Billings. Certainly tempting, but no, he guessed not. He’d save that fun for another time. Maybe next week, if the case hadn’t broken by then. No sense making the little man pee his pants today. If he had substituted somebody else’s DNA for the old man’s, the nervous little feller was going to be in a lot of trouble. Jimmy figured he'd save that entertainment for next week.

  A disturbing thought crept into his mind and he frowned again. Yesterday’s shooting. Now what was that about? He worried about Izzy, about whether Paul had put a cop on her door. If he had been the lead detective in that case, he would have. Especially since it was the detective’s girlfriend. If Izzy had been his and he had been in the position to do something about it, he was positive he wouldn’t have left her side. He only hoped Paul was as cautious.

  ***

  Eleanor looked at the woman seated across from her. Neither had said much. On Eleanor’s part it was because she wasn’t sure which woman was actually present this morning. She didn’t know why the cat had the other woman’s tongue, but after yesterday’s events she expected the reaction was normal. Still, the silence was becoming awkward. Eleanor took another sip of coffee wondering where to start, but, happily, the younger woman spoke first.

  “Do you really think someone was shooting at me? It’s more likely that they were after Jimmy, don’t you think? With his line of work and all?” Her face was solemn and she stared into Eleanor’s eyes intently, waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t know,” Eleanor replied tentatively. “I hate to be the one to bring it up, but do you think it could have been Paul?”

  “I’ve wondered about that, since he was there so quickly. He’d had to be close. What did it take him? Three minutes?”

  Eleanor let out the breath she’d been holding. She now knew this was Izzy and the one she’d hoped to speak with. Izzy would look at things objectively; her opinions weren’t colored with unrealistic sentiment since she wasn’t in love with Paul like Abby thought she was.

  “The only thing that goes against this is the fact that a gun was involved,” Eleanor said openly, now confident the other woman wouldn’t burst into tears. The idea that a lover enjoyed sadistic, violent games and preferred to kill with his bare hands was more than unsettling. And add to that the possibility that he could now be after you, well, that was beyond terrifying. She knew if she’d been speaking with Abby, she could only react with a tortured panic. She would be devastated.

  “True. We know his track record,” Izzy said. “He gets his thrill in strangling women, but I hope he wouldn’t consider doing that to someone he professes to love. Maybe that’s why he used a gun?”

  Eleanor nodded, understanding and agreeing. The prostitute murders he’d been involved in had been for fun, purely for the rush, the adventure. If he felt the need to murder Abby, differing emotions, more likely jealousy and anger, or possibly the urge to erase her from his life, would have caused it. It was hard to understand men like him. What motivated them? Was it something so simple as adrenalin? Were they addicted to the intense excitement that killing another human being gave? If so, they were no better than the few animals that killed for sport.

  “Do you think he does? Love Abby, I mean,” Eleanor stared closely at Izzy as she asked this; waiting for a response that would show Abby was near the surface. She’d never spoken with both at the same time before, but Izzy spoke with Abby and anything was possible. As she lately discovered.

  “I’m sure he does, in his own way,” Izzy replied.

  “Okay, then. Do you think he’s tired of her? That, possibly, he wants out of the relationship and doesn’t know how to do it?”

  “Nope. Don’t believe it. He cares for her. And Abby? Well, she’s never without a man around; she’s a freakin’ magnet to them. I’ve never understood it.”

  Eleanor smiled a knowing smile. “I wouldn’t talk. I know we didn’t go to Jimmy’s office just because of that missing girl. I think there’s something going on between the two of you.”

  Izzy colored. Liking a man was new to her and she didn’t know whether to deny it or agree to the allegation. Still, Eleanor was her friend. Except for Abby and now Jimmy, her only friend. With a sigh, she gave in, deciding to confide.

  “I don’t know. Sometimes he seems to like me and then other times it’s like I don’t exist.”

  “Men are like that, honey.”

  “But what am I supposed to do?”

  “Just what you’re doing. If it’s meant to be; it’ll happen.”

  Izzy was silent, clamming up in frustration. She was very unsophisticated regarding affairs of the heart. And, Eleanor thought, love is one of nature’s cruelest tricks. If we were like most animals, we’d only have to deal with instinct. Procreation was obviously much simpler and never had to be rationalized. Lust was easy to understand when not complicated with the twists and turns that human love put into it.

  Eleanor, taking pity on the hurt and confused young woman, said in a confident voice, “Don’t give up. Men are slow sometimes; they don’t always know what they want.”

  Chapter 30

  Thursday began clear and warm, but by nine that morning saw clouds moving in. Climbing out of his car, Jimmy looked at the sky hoping rain wouldn’t interfere with the day’s activities. As he looked around, he saw only two extra vehicles in the driveway. One was obviously the police car the dog and his handler had arrived in and the other was the dark blue sedan that Paul Lewinski drove. Homicide was here.

  Jimmy glanced at the porch and saw Winston Mason and Paul deep in conversatio
n. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the uniformed policeman working a German Shepard at the edge of a row of pines with low, full branches that blocked the road’s view of the house. He started to walk that direction, but stopped as Paul called him back.

  “Jimmy. You’ll have to stay up here with Winston. We can’t have you in the way. Sorry, but that’s orders from my superiors.” Paul sounded apologetic, but Jimmy thought the other man was barely suppressing a grin, which was surprising and hurt. Paul hadn’t seemed the type to rub his nose in the fact that he wasn’t currently employed in law enforcement. This was a sore spot he hadn’t until then realized he even had.

  “I understand,” Jimmy said, dutifully turning back toward the porch. “I’m just happy they let me be here at all.” It wouldn’t be smart to be anything but agreeable. He was exasperated, and hoped it wasn’t apparent in his voice. It felt strange that he didn’t have full run of a crime scene, especially one this many years old. And, if you got right down to it, it was also embarrassing. Assessing his new career, this was one of those things that put a checkmark on the negative side. Jimmy really hoped the hiring freeze would be over soon; he wanted his old job back. Being a private detective (a glorified snoop) sometimes wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.

  Paul stepped off the porch and met him halfway.

  In a lowered voice so Winston didn’t hear the detective said, “Forensics found a shell casing at the scene of the drive-by shooting yesterday. Only one. It must have bounced out the window as the shooter drove by. You said there were at least two rounds fired, right? The other one must be in the car.”

  “What kind was it?” Jimmy asked, hoping that forensics had had time to look at the casing.

  “A Glock 40,” Paul answered, as he stepped away. Jimmy watched him walk toward the pines, as his thoughts began to make unwanted connections.

  A Glock 40 semiautomatic had ramifications. Although it may not be departmental issued, it was the one nearly all cops used. A suspicion that Paul was the shooter suddenly popped into Jimmy’s head. He tried to block it, but the nagging, snaking, niggling little thought didn’t want to leave. Exasperated with himself, he could only assume he thought this way because he wanted to blame Paul and that he wanted him out of the way. It could be jealousy on his part, because he liked Izzy so much. Truthfully, the shooting and weapon used had to be simply a coincidence, coming right after the artist’s sketch that, to his eyes, resembled Paul. The whole suspicion was ridiculous. Anyway, why would Paul shoot at his girlfriend? It didn’t make any sense. No, Grant Mason, the woman’s husband, had a much better motive. It had to be Grant.

  “Hello there young feller,” Winston Mason said, breaking into his thoughts.

  Jimmy wondered how long he’d stood there with his back to the older man, rudely allowing his mind to wander. Shaking the redundant thoughts aside, he climbed the three steps up onto the porch to shake the hand extended.

  “Hi, Winston,” Jimmy said, smiling. “How are you and your wife today?”

  “Been better,” he said, tilting his head at the men and dog. His face was drawn and tired looking. Jimmy knew this wasn’t the way the old man wanted to spend his morning. He couldn’t think that anyone would want to. If you got right down to it, the only creature to enjoy the day would be the dog that was eagerly sniffing every inch of dirt his leash allowed access to.

  After a slight pause Winston continued, “It was a shame about that girl. But I hope they don’t find her here.” He hastened to explain, “ I hope they find her, her family deserves that. Just not here.”

  “I understand,” Jimmy said. He didn’t say he agreed with Winston’s comment. He was nearly sure she would be found here. And the girl’s remains needed to be found; that couldn’t happen soon enough. If she wasn’t here, then he had no idea where to look. The investigation would be at a dead end. He hoped for her parents’ sake that she was under the pines, although he felt for the old man and his wife.

  “You know they found her car here, don’t you,” the old man said, his eyes moist, his voice shaky. He motioned at one of the rockers and took his seat, slumping in the other, as if his legs didn’t want to hold him. He was a tired old man and today he showed his age.

  Jimmy nodded and sat down.

  Again there was silence for a time. Jimmy didn’t want to intrude on Winston’s thoughts and the empty silence made him feel out of place, as if he shouldn’t be here. Law enforcement didn’t want him on the scene and Winston deserved his privacy. Maybe he should just leave?

  “Guess there’s no denying that Grant did it,” Winston said finally, staring toward the dog and the two policemen, but not actually at them. His eyes weren’t focused; it was as if he was staring past them toward someplace distant. When he spoke again, Jimmy knew he had been. He’d been staring into the past. “Ruth and I loved that boy. I don’t know why, but sometimes love’s not enough.”

  Jimmy heard the pain in the old man’s words. Pity filled him as the man slumped lower in his chair and, before his eyes, seemed to age even more. Jimmy knew he couldn’t leave the old man alone now. He needed companionship, a friendly face, at least one that was nonjudgmental.

  “Is Ruth coming out to sit?” Jimmy said, more to change the subject than anything else. He looked around the porch, noticed that there were only the two rockers, and started to rise. “I’ll move if I’m in her chair.”

  “No, no. She’s at a neighbor’s. I took her there early, because I didn’t want her to have to go through this. She has Alzheimer’s and she wouldn’t understand; cops running around with dogs would just scare her. She doesn’t handle things well.”

  Jimmy didn’t know what else to say. Winston had his hands full with Ruth, and now this. If Janet Hilton’s body were found here, on their farm, it would be the talk of the neighborhood. Because nothing like it had happened before, it would never be forgotten, never allowed to rest. Winston and his wife would suffer; their infamous grandson had seen to that. Just thinking about Grant angered Jimmy. What he was putting his grandparents through, and what he’d done to Izzy was enough for Jimmy to hope he’d get the chair, not even allowing what he’d done to Janet.

  Jimmy kept his eyes glued to the working animal and his handler, away from Winston’s face. Pain emanated from the old man, Jimmy felt it from where he was sitting. He remembered that the couple had lost Grant’s father, their only child, in an automobile accident. Grant was their only surviving family, except for a few elderly cousins who lived in another state. They were alone in their declining health and old age with no family member to help, and few remaining to care.

  He was staring at the dog, watching the black and tan animal as it worked, back and forth around each pine tree when the dog abruptly crouched and sounded one sharp bark. Jimmy straightened in his seat, leaning forward. This could be it. He watched Paul walk over to the handler and saw, although he could not hear, the discussion that followed. The policeman put a marker on the ground and tugged the resistant animal away. He dragged him to the opposite side of the driveway and, again, told the dog to work. Obediently, the animal gave up his claim to the other site, put his nose to the ground, and began snuffling, his tail and ears up in an alert position.

  Paul pulled out his cell phone and Jimmy watched him punch in some numbers. The suspicion that something had been found grew as Paul motioned a hand toward the marked area. Although whomever he spoke with on the phone couldn’t see, he was using his hands to convey something that he wanted clear. The hand signals were easy to read; Jimmy felt his heartbeat rev up.

  “Whatchya think?” Winston asked. He was staring at Paul with a mixture of dread and anticipation. His expression reflected that of someone who stumbles upon a bloody accident, is horrified, but unable to look away.

  “Looks like they’ve found something,” Jimmy said, confirming the old man’s fears.

  Several calls later and aft
er what seemed like hours to the two men on the porch, Paul walked toward them. His face wore an odd expression of controlled excitement.

  “Mark thinks the dog’s found a possible site,” Paul said to Winston. “So I’ve called in a forensics team. I’m afraid they’ll take up the rest of the day, sir. The area around those pines is going to be off limits until they’re done. We’ll cordon off the area with tape. It’s going to be a zoo, but I’ll do my best to make sure that everyone stays out of your way.”

  Winston sighed, a catch sounding in his throat. His shoulders slumped even more, but he smiled slightly and nodded that he understood. Which he did. He understood more than the younger men knew. His and Ruth’s familiar, contented lives were over. Everyone would know them now only as the grandparents of a murderer, not just the suspicion that he was one. But that he actually was one. Whoever they’d been before, whatever they’d done, no longer mattered. They would be remembered for nothing else; this was their legacy. Their land, the hilly, rocky dirt that had grown flowers in the spring and collected its carpet of leaves in the fall, held the rotted remains of a young woman; her bones and whatever else remained lay right there, nearly in view of any honest person passing by on the road. Everything here would forever be tainted. Winston could hear it now.

  Right there under those pines. Turn your head and look. See, right there. Do you think they knew? They had to, didn’t they? They had to know their grandson, their flesh and blood, was a monster. Why didn’t those old people do something? They had to know… They had to.

  A tear trickled down Winston’s cheek. Without raising his head, he wiped it away. Jimmy turned, knowing the old man didn’t want him to see, knowing how deeply personal the moment was. Jimmy was disturbed himself, and he wasn’t involved.

  A cool breeze suddenly rustled through the young leaves, whistling an advance warning of thunder that could be heard rumbling in the distance. A storm was coming in. Jimmy watched as Paul anxiously looked up at the sky and pulled out his phone again. They would need tarps and tents to cover the site. The evidence, once unearthed, needed to be protected.