by Terry Odell
“So why leave the other stuff in the car?” Gordon asked. “Why not get rid of all of it?”
“I forgot to polish my crystal ball this morning,” Harris said. “Maybe he intended to, but got interrupted.”
Gordon set that one aside to deal with later. “One other thing,” he said. “The other accident. The wife who was supposed to be waiting in the car? The one who was missing when we got there? Turns out she’s been dead over fifteen years.”
Harris gave a low whistle. “And the husband says she was in the car? Sounds like a nut job.”
“No question about that. Two similar accidents, but not identical. Probably a coincidence.”
Harris gave a crooked smile. “But we hate coincidences, don’t we?”
“Like the plague. I’m going to look into this. District Five should have all the reports for the other accident. If you have any strings you can pull, get me copied on both. I’ll compare them and let you know what I find.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Like I said before, we’re always happy for help.”
Gordon remembered something Solomon had said. “Shit. Don’t know if this is relevant or another damn coincidence. The husband who said his wife was missing. Orrin Wardell. He was a theater major in college. Must know his way around costumes and disguises.”
Could Carharrt Cowboy be Orrin Wardell? And how did that connect to the break-in at Angie’s? Were they looking at one bigger puzzle now?
“I’m going to want this stuff, too,” Gordon said, reaching for the trooper’s bag of hair and facial bits.
The trooper looked to Harris, who nodded. “I’ll log it to show we gave it to you.” He paused. “Hang on one minute.” He reached for his radio, talked to the K-9 handler. “You’re good to go. Sophie has the scent, doesn’t need it again.”
Gordon could buy that. Bloodhounds were top of the food chain in the scent department. He took the bag. “I’m going to head back. Keep me apprised of anything you find.”
“Will do,” Harris said.
Gordon took everything to his unit, pleased that traffic was moving normally again. Rush hour was not a good time to shut down sections of road. Of course, there was the inevitable slowing as rubberneckers tried to get a glimpse of what had happened, but the units directing traffic had left, so there wasn’t much to see other than a couple of State Patrol cars on the shoulder. He flipped on his lights before pulling out and hanging a U-turn, heading for Mapleton. He checked the time—no way he’d make it for crossing guard duty. He radioed Dispatch, asked Tessa to put someone on it, then tried to make sense of what he’d seen. If not for the disguise, he’d have gone along with Harris—that these kinds of accidents were common enough, especially in the dark. If the driver wasn’t familiar with this stretch of road, odds for an accident went up. Given the car was a rental, that was a viable assumption. No reason to connect this one to Wardell’s accident, staged or otherwise, over in Tranquility Valley.
But now there was a connection, at least one to consider. He could hardly wait to toss this one at Solomon.
He stopped at Laurie’s desk when he got back. “Anything for me?”
“Only that you forgot to turn off your coffee maker. Again. I took care of it.”
“Again. I ever tell you I couldn’t live without you?”
She rolled her eyes and gave her usual response. “Not nearly enough.”
No matter how much he wanted to work on connecting today’s accident to Angie’s break-in, Gordon needed to follow up with Gaubatz. Get it over with. He sucked it up and found the sergeant at his desk, dealing with paperwork. “When you get a break, I’d like a word. In my office,” Gordon said.
Gaubatz stiffened. “Problem, sir?”
Gordon shook his head. “Shouldn’t be.”
“I can finish this later.” Gaubatz shoved away from his desk and stood.
At his office, Gordon held the door for Gaubatz and closed it behind them.
Gaubatz stood at attention.
“Have a seat. I want to ask you a couple of questions.” Gordon rummaged through his inbox, found the folder with Gaubatz’s write-up of Jost. He handed the printout to Gaubatz. “You remember this one?”
The sergeant glanced at it, then set it on the desk. “Yes, I remember the incident,” a touch of defensiveness in his tone.
“What I don’t see there is the part with Jost’s responses. Is there a page missing? It is SOP to report both sides of any complaint.” Although Gordon didn’t say it, he could tell Gaubatz caught the implied or should I write you up for your own mistake?
Gaubatz reddened. “An oversight on my part, sir.”
“I’m trying to cut down on Jost’s duty hours,” Gordon said. “Nothing to do with your report, but since he’s a new father, I thought he could use some extra time helping his wife. Sometimes family takes precedence.” He steepled his fingers. “You have any family issues that might be interfering with the performance of your duties?”
Gaubatz’s lips flattened. He shook his head. “No, sir. Although I might have been a little stressed when I wrote that report. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take another look at it. Maybe I’ll remember a few more details. Modify it, if necessary.”
“Or, I could save you the extra work and suggest that perhaps this entire report could be deleted. If you feel that’s appropriate given the circumstances.” Gordon lifted the folder.
Gaubatz stared at the wall over Gordon’s shoulder. “Sir, I think that’s the best resolution of the situation.”
“Very well.” Gordon rose and gave Gaubatz a firm stare. “You can resume your duties, sergeant.”
Gaubatz practically jumped out of his chair, gave a quick semblance of a salute, and left the office.
After shredding Gaubatz’s write-up of Jost, Gordon brought the folder to Laurie for filing and went to Dispatch to see what Solomon was doing.
“He’s on a call,” Tessa said. “You want me to order him back when he’s done?”
“Not order,” Gordon said. “Have him check in with me the next time he’s in the station.”
Gordon went to his office and started making additions to his white board. He stopped. Too many circles and arrows. He’d begin again, putting everything on one timeline. See if that helped.
His phone interrupted.
“It’s Trooper Brandon Harris,” Laurie said. “Shall I put him through?”
“Please.”
“We traced the rental,” Harris said. “Didn’t you say the other accident was in Tranquility Valley?”
“That’s right.”
“Then I might have another dreaded coincidence.”
Chapter 47
Gordon reached for a pen. “Go.”
“The rental came back to an Enterprise outlet in Montrose. Car was rented to an Orrin Wardell. That was your guy, right?”
“Yeah. You get the address he used when he rented the vehicle?”
Harris read off a New Mexico address. Gordon rummaged through his paperwork, looking for the address he had. No, Solomon had. He’d given him the note when this was all an “interesting if you have spare time” project.
“And you think this guy is the one who broke into the apartment in Mapleton?” Harris asked.
“Looking more and more like it, although I can’t figure out why,” Gordon said.
“Have fun. We’ll be looking for him, too. Sophie’s still on his trail. Or, more accurately, she’s tracking whoever was in the car. I’ll let you know what we find.”
Gordon called Tessa and told her to upgrade her notice to Solomon to ASAP. “Not a Code Three, but have him get here whenever he finishes the call he’s on.”
“Roger, Chief. He should be wrapping things up.”
Gordon went to the white board, removed all the notes and wiped it clean. Solomon barged in seconds later. “You wanted to see me, Chief?” He paused, stared at the empty board. “You solved it?”
Gordon snorted. “Not hardly. Starting over with som
e new developments. I need that address I gave you for Orrin Wardell. In New Mexico.”
“On it.” Solomon dashed out of the office like a dog hot on a scent.
Gordon drew a horizontal timeline a third of the way up the board. He considered the pickup truck accident, and decided it, thank goodness, was a separate case. But everything else might be connected.
Where had things begun?
Solomon came back with the address.
“Let’s leave that for a few minutes,” Gordon said. He laid out his assumption that they could skip the pickup truck accident. “Wardell was with me when it went down, and I can’t see him as a sniper.”
Solomon looked almost disappointed that he couldn’t use his serial killer angle, but agreed that it was likely a separate case.
“Let’s recap,” Gordon said. “Make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Or white board, as the case may be,” Solomon added.
Gordon grimaced. “On task, please. Technically, only the false alarm and break-in are within our jurisdiction, but we’ve got interdepartmental cooperation and sharing is more effective than compartmentalizing. Let’s start with the players.”
On the far side of the white board, Gordon listed names. The uncle in Telluride, Wardell, and everyone else at the B and B, including the Yardumians.
“You think that blogger lady and the mountain man are back in it? Or the artist?” Solomon asked.
“No, but I want their names where I can see them.” He added “B and B Reservation?” next to Nick Metcalf’s name. “Not sure whether this means anything. Guy could have been mistaken, but he might have been lying. And if he was, the why behind the lie might give us something. But it’s low priority now.”
Gordon added Roni’s name as well. “She might be dead, but she’s still running around in Wardell’s head, so I don’t want to forget her.”
“There’s the guy who died in the fire.”
“Right.” Gordon added Jase Blackhawk’s name to the board.
“Motives?” Solomon asked.
“Let’s get a timeline first,” Gordon said. “Wardell’s accident and the uncle’s homicide are at the beginning. Do we have any more information about when the uncle died?”
“On it.” Solomon sat in Gordon’s chair and picked up the phone.
“While you’re making calls,” Gordon said, “see if you can get everyone to send us whatever they have to date. No point in us spending time hunting down information someone could give us.”
Solomon nodded, grabbed a pen and notepad.
Laurie popped her head in. “Sorry to bother you, but your line’s busy. Special meeting of the Town Council at ten-thirty. Your attendance is requested.”
Which made it an order. “Concerning?”
“My guess is the recent crime wave,” she said.
Right. First the capture of the ATM scammer, although he hadn’t had a chance to commit his crime before he was apprehended. Gordon assumed his summons was about someone setting a false alarm and breaking into an apartment. Two crimes within minutes of each other. Never mind they were the same crime, and nobody’d been hurt, no damage done, and the value of the missing property was minimal. And, they’d recovered most of it. Which he’d left in his vehicle outside.
“You can confirm my attendance,” Gordon said. “But if you can find out the agenda, I’ll know how to prepare.”
“I’ll give it a shot,” she said, closing the door behind her.
Gordon dashed out the back and grabbed the bags, setting them beside his desk. Better get these logged in.
Solomon hung up. “Town Council, huh? They didn’t call any special meetings while I was acting chief.”
Gordon scowled. “That’s because I had everything all neat and tidy for you before I left. Find out anything?”
Solomon hung up the phone. “Time of death for the uncle is approximate. No heat in the house, kept the decomp slow. No smell to alert the neighbors. They’re ballparking it Monday before last.” He stepped to the white board and drew a diagonal line near the beginning of the timeline, adding the information.
“If so, then that’s the day before Wardell showed up at the B and B.”
“Which means he’s a person of interest in the homicide,” Solomon said. “I’ll give everyone else a call, see if they’ll send the records over, or give me log-ins so I can poke around myself.”
Gordon knew Solomon would prefer the latter option, but he reminded his officer that having everything in one place would streamline data collection.
His intercom buzzed. Gordon stepped behind Solomon to answer.
“Bring your budget figures,” Laurie told him.
Great. Were they going to cut more, or was there a glimmer of hope that they might be finding extra money for law enforcement? After all, Mapleton was in the midst of a crime wave. “Got it,” he said.
“You can carry on at your desk,” Gordon told Solomon. “I have to play number cruncher for a bit. However,” he added with a smirk, “I’m going to make sure Tessa knows you’re still on call.”
Solomon grinned. “Hey, I know. Mapleton first, puzzles second. Even if it’s a Mapleton puzzle. I’ve got my priorities straight.”
Gordon shook his head in amusement as Solomon strode out of the office. And thanked whatever stars, or gods, or fates had given Mapleton an officer as dedicated as Ed Solomon. The man lived for the job, and the more curves you threw at him, the better he seemed to like it.
~~~
Almost two hours later, Gordon trudged into his office. He didn’t know whether to curse or thank whichever council member had convinced the mayor it was worth an emergency session to put Gordon on the spot. He wondered if there were still members who wanted him out. He’d run through the progress they’d made on the investigation, praised the rapid response of the firefighters and medics. Assured the council it was not the beginning of a crime spree, that the Mapleton they all served was still a safe, quiet place to live.
Despite the unscheduled meeting, apparently there were more members who thought he was doing a decent job, since the council had spent more time listening to his ideas of what to do, rather than telling him how they thought a police force should be run, the way the last council had. As usual, everyone had to put in their own opinions, which ate up time, but in the end, when they’d all had their say, they’d agreed to look at his budget suggestions and take them into consideration the next time the budget committee met.
But, time spent playing politics meant that much less time trying to solve his current problem. He’d called Daily Bread for a takeout lunch, picked it up on the fly, and was ready to spend some quality time with his computer. He checked in with Laurie first.
“Solomon’s in your office. Got here about fifteen minutes ago,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“No, we’re working on something.”
When Gordon opened the door to his office, Solomon was standing at the white board. He’d filled in some timeline items, stuck pictures and notes up, and was tossing a marker in his hand.
“Looks like you’ve been working.” Gordon set his lunch on the desk, opened the bag and pulled out his roast beef sandwich. “Fill me in.” He took a huge bite of the sandwich and perused Solomon’s additions to the board. He pointed. Swallowed. “The line connecting Wardell and Jase Blackhawk. Why?”
Solomon turned, his expression half pride, half gloat. “Because I’m a damn good cop.”
“Never said you weren’t. Consider yourself patted on the back. Report.”
“The New Mexico address you had me check. Wardell. Something rang a bell. It came up during the fire investigation. And you’re going to love the next bit.”
Chapter 48
Gordon set the sandwich aside. If he didn’t know Solomon’s sense of humor never intruded into the facts of a case, he’d have laughed. “Tell me.”
“The address goes to an institutional complex. Years ago, it would have been called an in
sane asylum, or a loony bin. I think today’s PC terminology is closer to a residential mental health facility. Bottom line, both these guys had a couple of screws loose. Wardell’s been in and out half a dozen times. Wish I knew more, but HIPAA’s privacy laws are a bitch. And, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t have any contacts in New Mexico who could help with the red tape. I’m waiting for the locals.”
“You’re sure Wardell and Jase Blackhawk were … residents? Didn’t work there?” Gordon asked.
“I’m sure. First, if they worked there, odds are they lived somewhere else. It’s possible, of course, that the facility provides some kind of housing for employees, but that’s a stretch.” Solomon smirked. “Also, the privacy laws don’t extend to personnel, so being the top investigator I am, I also confirmed neither man worked there.”
“So, what does this mean?”
“Damned if I know,” Solomon said. “But if this one’s a coincidence, I’ll buy your cinnamon rolls for a month. There’s a connection. All we have to do is find it.”
Solomon pursed his lips in and out a few times. Stepped to the white board. Wrote FIRES. “We have both men at the B and B. It’s possible they were both there at the same time.”
“But Wardell leaves, goes and rents a car. Says he’s going to Telluride to see his uncle, wait for his wife, who doesn’t exist. If he killed his uncle before he came to the Yardumians’, Jase Blackhawk might have been with him.”
“We also have two fire-related events,” Solomon said. “One was a false alarm, one ended up killing someone.”
“We’ve been assuming Blackhawk was the cause of the first, and he died by accident. Are you suggesting that Wardell came back, set the fire to get rid of him? Why?”
“Maybe Blackhawk knew Wardell killed his uncle. Threatened to go to the cops. Or maybe there’s absolutely nothing to connect them. Could Wardell have made it from the rental agency to the B and B in time to set the fire?”