Secrets, Lies & Alibis

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Kevin and Mac arrived at the Troutdale Police Department at about the same time Eric did. As they walked across the parking lot together, Kevin said, “I can’t believe you can drive from Salem quicker than we can cross town.”

  “Yeah, this metro traffic is getting worse and worse.” Eric opened the door and the three of them filed in.

  After checking with the clerk, Eric led the way to the police chief ’s office and plucked a tape player off the overstuffed bookcase. Once they were seated, he slipped the first tape into the small player. “The tapes were made yesterday afternoon at seven in the evening. The inmates can call collect from the pay phones in the yard between ten in the morning and eight in the evening.

  There may have been more calls made, but these are the ones we captured after we set the tap in place.”

  Mac folded his arms and leaned back, stretching out his long legs. “Since we had to ask, I take it not all calls are recorded. If it’s a public phone, how do they know when to record?”

  “The inmate types his identification number into the phone before the call,” Eric replied. “All calls are subject to being recorded for random checks, although they aren’t singled out for law enforcement unless requested.”

  “Got it.”

  “Here we go with the first one.” Eric depressed the “play” button.

  “Will you accept a collect call from the Oregon State Penitentiary from . . .” a male voice saying, “Mitch,” interrupted the computerized voice.

  “Please press one to accept. Your call may be monitored.”

  “Hey, Mitch, how goes it?” Mac recognized the speaker as Joe Higgins.

  “Not bad. What’s up?” Wallace’s voice was scratchy—probably from too many years of tar and nicotine.

  “Not much. Had a visit from a couple of detectives this morning.”

  “Oh yeah?” Wallace’s pitch went up a couple of notches.

  “ Yeah. They were asking questions about Megan Tyson—you remember, the gal I made those earrings for. I told them I didn’t know anything.” Higgins tone stayed even and steady.

  “Why did you even talk to them, man? You don’t have to, you know.”

  “Mitch, it’s no wonder you’re back in the tank. Don’t you know anything? When cops say jump, you ask how high. I don’t want to wind up in the slammer again. No way. Besides, I got nothing to hide.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?” Wallace coughed.

  “They asked about you.”

  “You told them about me?”

  “No, pinhead. They asked.”

  “How did they know about me?”

  “How should I know? No need to get riled up. Just remember, they could be recording this.”

  “I don’t give a rip. Answer my question, Higgins. What have you been telling them?”

  “Nothing, I swear. Besides, what’s to tell? They’re talking to everybody who had some connection to the Tyson woman. I imagine they’ll be visiting you too.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Look,” Joe sounded patronizing. “I didn’t tell them anything except that you were in town to visit and drink a little.”

  “You’d better be telling me the truth, buddy, ’cause a few words to the cops and we’ll be cellmates again.”

  “Simmer down, Mitch. I haven’t done anything to go to prison for. I’m clean, remember?”

  Wallace grunted and Higgins ended the call.

  “It’s a bit vague,” Kevin said, “but reading between the lines I’d say Higgins is making a promise not to rat and wanting the same reassurance from Wallace.”

  “No arguments here.” Eric took out the tape and put in the second one.

  They listened through the same operator-assisted jargon and heard Joe’s irritated voice.

  “Man, you’ve got to quit calling me. My phone bill’s whacked.”

  “I forgot to ask you about something. I was wondering if you got rid of all that camping gear we had?”

  “Yeah. I sold it.”

  “Cool. Remember you promised to give me half of what you made for helping you move. I need money for smokes.”

  “I got your half, but I’m taking out enough to pay for these phone calls.”

  “Just don’t go spending it. Look, I gotta go. Stay cool, man, I’ll call you tomorrow. It’s time for lockdown. You stay cool, you hear!”

  “Don’t worry. Sounds like you’re the one who needs to stay cool.”

  “That’s it so far.” Eric pulled the second tape from the machine. “I wonder what the camping gear stuff was all about.”

  “Who knows?” Kevin stood up and paced across the room, pausing to examine the contents of the police chief ’s bookcase. “I doubt that it’s camping gear, though.”

  Mac straightened in the chair. “Wallace sounds a little worried about his friend’s loyalty.”

  “You got that right.” Kevin turned back around to face them.

  “They’re worried about something, that’s for sure. If you want to break an alliance, you start at the weakest link. Wallace sounds nervous.” He placed both hands palm down on the desk. “Eric, how long would it take to have Wallace moved from general population to segregation?”

  “About thirty seconds.” A smile erupted on Eric’s face. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Mac looked back and forth at the two detectives, feeling left out of the loop.

  Kevin nodded. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. We move Wallace into segregation and cut off his phone calls to Higgins.”

  Eric agreed. “He’ll be climbing the walls in a couple of hours and ready to crack in twelve.”

  “Make the call to the Pen and work your magic, my friend.

  With any luck at all, the guy will tell us why he’s so worried about our little chats with Higgins.”

  Eric left the room to make his call.

  “Can we do that?” Mac asked.

  “Wallace forfeits certain rights when he is in prison.” Kevin sat back down. “The prison officials can move him about and restrict his rights without warning or reason. We aren’t doing this to be cruel. We’re hoping to cause some friction between Wallace and Higgins. If we want straight answers, we’ve got to cut their support line.”

  “Do you really think Higgins and Wallace killed Megan?”

  “I wish I could say yes and get this caper over with. They had access to her. We found blood in Joe’s apartment. Higgins sold some so-called camping equipment. That could translate to Megan’s ring. Or it could be stolen goods that have nothing to do with Megan. We’ll know more when we talk to Allison.”

  Mac blew out a long breath. “I think waiting is the hardest part of this job.”

  “No, Mac. The hardest part is doing all this work and coming up empty, which could still happen. Like I said before, this could have been a random act and the killer is long gone.”

  “I hope not.” Mac thought about the serial killers who preyed on people for years before getting caught—and those who were still out there.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Let’s grab a quick bite then head over to Megan’s funeral,” Kevin said.

  “I thought we weren’t going to the funeral.” Mac felt relieved somehow at his partner’s decision. He had wanted to go, and not just as a detective. He wanted to say good-bye.

  “Changed my mind. Higgins said he was going, and I’d like to keep an eye on him. Besides, I feel like I’ve gotten to know Megan Tyson fairly well over the past few days. I’d like to pay my respects.”

  Eric walked in the room as they were putting on their jackets. “Mr. Wallace is enjoying a suite for one at the luxurious segregation ward in the Oregon State Penitentiary. He’s allowed no outside contact, phone calls, or mail. The cell block captain said we could administratively hold him there for one week without reason, but any longer and we’re going to need something more substantial.”

  “We should know in a day or two whether he and Higgins killed her.” Kevin adj
usted his jacket where it hooked up on his holster. “One more favor, Eric. We need to set up a poly this afternoon for Matthew DeLong from the retirement inn. He’s agreed, but he’s squeamish about it. Need to get him in before he changes his mind.”

  “I’ll make the call now.” Minutes later Eric got off the phone and told them it was all set up. Detective Thomas would be there at 2:00 P.M.

  “Great.” Kevin grabbed his wallet. “Hey, Eric. Mac and I are going across the street to grab a bite. You hungry?”

  “I could eat a horse.” Eric patted his flat stomach.

  “You may just do that in this joint,” Mac joked.

  “Ah yes, but I’d take quantity over quality any day.” Eric laughed and grabbed his jacket to join them.

  “HOW'S MY COUSIN HERE DOING on the investigation?” Eric asked when they’d been seated and given menus.

  Mac snapped up his head in time to see Eric send him a wink.

  “He’s a quick learner,” Kevin said. “A lot quicker than you were anyway.”

  “That’s not saying much.” Eric laughed.

  Kevin glanced over at Mac. “Eric was a really tough case. More stubborn than you are.”

  Mac crinkled his brow, wondering what his new partner was up to. “What do you mean stubborn?”

  “Oh, not as far as the detective work. I’m talking about getting right with God. Took Eric a long time to come around to my way of thinking.”

  “How do you know your way is the right way?” Mac asked.

  Kevin pursed his lips. “I stand corrected. Let’s say, God’s way. As I was saying, it took Eric a long time to see the light.”

  “Don’t rub it in,” Eric said. “ ‘Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue.’ ”

  “Yes, but ‘the wise in heart accept commands, but a chattering fool comes to ruin.’ ”

  Eric picked up his menu, not seeming the least bit annoyed. “Can’t I ever stump you, old-timer?”

  “Not when you’re venturing into Proverbs, pal. Bring it on.” Kevin picked up his water and drank half of it down.

  “I know when I’ve been bested, Master Yoda.” Eric grinned and nodded at Mac. “You may as well give in, Mac. Kevin is relentless.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration.” So his cousin had become a believer. Mac wondered if that was why he’d been so nice—why he hadn’t given him a hard time.

  “Um, Eric, I should have called Lynn yesterday. Tell her I said thanks for the invitation. If I’m not working, I’d like to come.”

  “Good. I’ll pass it along. How long has it been since you’ve seen my family, Mac?”

  “Since Grandma Kathryn’s funeral last year, I think.”

  Eric shook his head. “Too long. After all, we’re cousins—we should get together now and then.”

  “Yeah.” Mac nodded, wanting to change the subject before Eric decided to say any more about the family. “We should order.”

  After lunch, the detectives headed for the funeral service. Eric opted to take his own car so he could head right over to Joe Higgins’s old apartment to relieve Dana.

  WHEN MAC AND KEVIN ARRIVED at the large church, hundreds of mourners had come to pay their respects.

  “I didn’t expect quite this many people,” Mac said as they ascended the wide stairs leading into the church.

  “Like I said, the press went all out on this one. Everybody feels a connection with Megan. We all have a wife, sister, mother, or daughter who could have died in Megan’s place. There but for God’s grace. A lot of people feel the need to attend the service of murder victims; some feel they have come to know them during the course of the media coverage.” Kevin looked over at Mac.

  “Sometimes police officers feel a need to bury the victims too.”

  Mac swallowed hard, glad to hear he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. As they entered the sanctuary, Mac noticed Russ and Philly in the balcony with a video camera on a tripod. Russ nodded at Mac in recognition. He and Philly were poised to capture the attendance, in the event the killer was brazen enough to attend the funeral.

  Mac noticed an older man standing next to a table that displayed a large photograph of Megan. He was dressed in dark slacks that looked a little too long for his short frame. He tugged at his collar, trying to loosen his tie.

  “Look at that guy over there, Kevin, by Megan’s picture. Seems out of place.”

  The man’s lips moved as though he were talking to her. He bowed his head, then turned away and walked toward Kevin and Mac.

  “I think he set something on the table,” Mac said, leaning close to Kevin’s ear. “I’m going to go see what it is.”

  “Hold on, Mac.” Kevin stepped toward the older man, blocking his path. “Hello, Mr. Collins.”

  The man squinted. His eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, hello, Detective. You remember me, huh?” His smile revealed tobacco-stained teeth.

  “Sure do, sir.” Kevin offered his hand. “I also felt a need to attend the service.”

  “Well, I’m not much for fancy gatherings, so I’m going to head back to the place. I’ve got a lot of work to do before the fall sets in.”

  “It was good to see you, sir. God bless.”

  “God bless you too, Detective.” The man shook Kevin’s hand a second time, using both hands. He turned and walked out of the church, disappearing into the crowd.

  “Who was that guy?” Mac asked.

  “Preston Collins—the unfortunate fellow who found Megan’s body. It was nice of him to come by.” Kevin straightened to his full height and scanned the crowd. “Have you seen Cindy Tyson or Tim Morris?”

  “Not yet,” Mac said. “I still can’t get over the number of people here.”

  Kevin pulled his pager from his hip, squinting to read the number. “Got your phone, Mac? It’s the crime lab in Portland.”

  “I left it in the car,” Mac answered with an embarrassed grin.

  “It’s your evidence, partner. You go make the call and see what Allison has turned up for us.”

  “You got it.” Mac wove through the crowd and sprinted to his car, which they’d had to park two blocks away. He hurriedly dialed the number to the lab.

  He got a secretary and, after what seemed like five minutes rather than five seconds, got Allison on the line.

  “Hi, Allison, Detective McAllister here. You just paged Kevin.”

  “Right.”

  “What do you have for us?” Mac could barely contain his excitement.

  “I’ve performed a forensic examination on the carpet fibers and verified that the stain was in fact human blood. I then compared the blood sample to the DNA comparison sample I extracted from the victim’s thighbone. I used what was called the polymerase chain reaction method, or PCR. These initial markers give us a probability odds factor in the neighborhood of one in five thousand.”

  “Can I get that in English?”

  “Sorry. It’s the initial DNA comparison method that only uses six markers, called loci. Anyway, to make a long story short, the bloodstain on the carpet is not consistent with the DNA I extracted from the victim at the time of autopsy.”

  Mac closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Joe Higgins said he’d cut himself. I guess he was telling the truth.”

  “Sorry, Mac. I’ve begun the more comprehensive DNA analysis, but that won’t be ready for several days. I’ll fax the report over to the Troutdale P.D. I’ll also run an analysis on those cigarette butts you brought in. That will tell us for sure if the sample was Joe Higgins’s blood.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let the gang know.”

  “Do you still want a CSI crew over at the Parkview apartment? We’re tied up on another case right now, but I can have someone out there later this afternoon.”

  “I don’t know—I’d say yes, but let me ask Kevin and get back to you.”

  Mac snapped the mouthpiece shut on his cell phone and stared out the window of the car for a moment, his
left foot still dangling outside the open car door. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “So much for your big find, Detective.” He looked into the rearview mirror. Why couldn’t it have been Megan’s blood? Mac climbed out of the car and locked it up, then took his time getting back to the church.

  “I have some good news and some bad news,” Mac said when he joined Eric and Kevin inside. “Allison said it was definitely blood, but the initial test indicated that it wasn’t Megan’s.”

  Both men expressed their frustration.

  “Allison said she’d test the cigarette butts we found on Joe’s patio to determine if the blood was Joe’s.”

  “Thanks, Mac.” Kevin looked worse than Mac felt. They had all put a little too much hope in that tiny speck of blood. “Okay, so the blood isn’t Megan’s. Joe may be telling us the truth, but I’m not ready to let him off the hook. Since we’ve got things set up for the crime lab to check out Joe’s apartment, I’d like to go ahead with it. We have to do at least that much.”

  Eric agreed. “The consent is still good, so go for it.”

  “Allison can’t get to it until later this afternoon,” Mac said.

  Kevin nodded. “I’ll reaffirm with the landlord when we get there. I don’t see any need for a warrant yet.”

  Mac stepped out to call Allison then came back inside where Eric and Kevin were still talking.

  “I’ll keep Philly and Russ here to follow through with the funeral.” Eric looked around at the massive room full of people. “I’d like to pay my respects, too, then we’ll head over to the apartment.” The service was starting. The detectives filed into the main part of the church and stood against the back wall.

  The minister opened in prayer then welcomed people. He looked out over the congregation. “We’re here today to mourn the death of a beautiful young woman, Megan Tyson.”

  From his vantage point in the back Mac could see Cindy and Tim. Tim had an arm around Cindy’s shoulders. Two seats behind them sat a man in a black ponytail. Joe Higgins.

  “I’m sure many of you are wondering how a God we claim is loving can allow such horrific things to happen.”

  Mac lowered his head, remembering how he had blamed God.