Jessie Black Box Set 2

by Larry A Winters

  “I know. That’s why I’m here.” She nodded toward his computer. “Do you have the video files saved on there? From the convenience store security camera?”

  “I have everything.”

  “I’d like to watch the footage again.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a hunch, I guess.”

  “Okay.” Leary moved to the small desk and gestured for her to sit in the chair. Standing beside her, he used the touchpad to bring up a folder and open it on the screen.

  “The full version,” she said. “Not the edited one we used at trial.”

  With a few more clicks, Leary brought up the video. He hit play, and they watched the street and parking lot in front of the convenience store.

  “Thanks. Now skip forward to the part where Hazenberg is heading away from Edley’s house, after the murder.”

  Leary advanced the video forward to the point she requested. Hazenberg’s figure passed briskly through the camera’s field of vision. His expression was hard, determined, and his gait purposeful.

  A man who had just brutally tortured and killed someone, and then hidden the evidence.

  “Okay. Now I want to start moving backward in time. I want to see if anyone else walked past the camera before Hazenberg did—while he was still in Edley’s house, killing him.”

  Leary moved the video backward. They watched mostly nothing. A few random pedestrians. A lot of cars. Then, a woman.

  “Pause here,” Jessie said. Leary froze the image. Together, they stared at a black-haired, attractive woman half-running, half-staggering in the direction leading away from Edley’s house.

  “Holy shit,” Leary said.

  The woman looked terrified.

  “She was there,” Jessie said. “It was her hair we found on his body.”

  An eyewitness.

  Leary swayed a little on his feet. When she looked at his face, she saw he wasn’t wholly convinced. “It’s possible. But it’s just a theory. And it’s not going to be easy to prove.”

  “We can prove it if we can match the hairs found on Kent Edley’s body with her DNA.”

  “That requires us to find her first. To identify her and bring her in.”

  Jessie nodded. “Any idea how we do that?”

  Leary’s face lacked its usual easy confidence, but he nodded. “Start with the neighbor.”

  30

  Abraham Raney, Kent Edley’s next-door neighbor, peered out at Jessie and Leary from behind his front door. “Will this never end? I already told the police–twice–that I did not see or hear anything that night. The reporters, too. They keep trying to talk to me. For God’s sake, the man is dead. It’s over and done. Let me live in peace.”

  “We sympathize, Mr. Raney,” Leary said. “I know how burdensome this process can be. And I promise you, we’re not planning to take a lot of your time.”

  Leary’s words seemed to settle him a little bit, but he did not budge from his place in the doorway. He continued to block their entry.

  “You told the police that Kent Edley was a ladies’ man,” Jessie said. “I believe those were your exact words. You said there were always women going in and out of his house.”

  The man listened to her with a wary expression. Silence hung in the air. For a second, Jessie thought he was going to deny even saying this much. “Yes, that’s what I told them. It’s the truth.”

  “May we come inside?” Jessie said. “I think we’d all be more comfortable.”

  Raney clearly did not want to invite them in, but faced with her direct request, he capitulated. With a reluctant nod, he stepped back from the doorway. Jessie and Leary walked inside.

  The old man led them to a family room with a couch and some chairs. Probably the same room in which he had spoken to Graham and Novak.

  And where Graham and Novak had spun their wheels, getting nowhere.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Raney lowered himself onto the edge of one of the chairs.

  Jessie and Leary took seats on the couch. Jessie leaned back, hoping the old man would mirror her relaxed posture. He didn’t. More crouching than sitting, he looked ready to spring up at any moment.

  Jessie pulled a folder from her attaché case, opened the folder, and withdrew a printout she and Leary had made of an image of the black-haired woman captured from the video footage. She passed the photo to Raney. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  The man barely seemed to glance at the printout. “What are you asking me? If I know who this person is?”

  “Do you?” Leary said.

  “No.”

  The man started to pass the photo back to Jessie, but she did not take it from his hand. “Would you mind taking a closer look?”

  “Don’t need to.”

  “Are you sure?” Jessie said. She let a note of skepticism enter her voice—which wasn’t hard, in this case. “You really never saw her?”

  The man shifted nervously on his chair. “I didn’t say I never saw her. I said I don’t know who she is.”

  Jessie and Leary exchanged a quick glance. “Where did you see her?” Jessie said.

  “You’re going to have to leave. I can’t help you.” He started to rise from his chair.

  “Sit down, Mr. Raney.” Leary’s voice was firm, the command of a police officer.

  Raney stared at him, paused, then sat back down.

  “Ms. Black asked you a simple question,” Leary said. “We would appreciate an honest answer. Or we can take you to police headquarters and put you in an interview room. Do you understand?”

  Raney’s breathing became louder, more labored. “I hear you.”

  “Good. Now answer the question.”

  “I saw her with Kent.”

  “Kent Edley, your neighbor?” Leary said.

  “Yes.”

  “At his house?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessie leaned forward. “You saw this woman at Mr. Edley’s house?”

  Raney stared at her. “But I don’t know who she is. That’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve seen her go in and out of his house. I’m pretty sure they had a thing going. Like I said, the man had a lot of lady visitors. This woman was one of them.”

  “Was she there the night he was murdered?” Jessie said.

  The man’s breathing became louder, uneven. He bent forward as if staring at the carpet. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to be part of this. I just want to be left alone.”

  “We understand that, but a man has been viciously murdered. We need to know if this woman was at his house that night.” She tapped the printout.

  The man nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. He winced. Jessie sensed he was engaged in an inner debate only he could hear. Finally, he said, “I can’t tell you for sure.”

  “You can’t tell me, or you don’t know if she was there that night?”

  The old man struggled for another breath. Then he looked at Jessie with a meaningful expression. “I’m not sure enough to say it under oath, if you know what I mean. But it’s possible she was there.”

  Leary rose from his seat and loomed over the man, glaring down at him. “That’s not good enough—”

  “It’s okay, Leary.” Jessie stood up. Leary looked at her, but said nothing.

  “Thank you, Mr. Raney,” she said. “You’ve been helpful. We appreciate it.”

  She and Leary left the house and returned to Leary’s car. They got in and strapped on their seatbelts.

  “He saw her that night,” Leary said. “If we push him a little harder, he’ll admit it.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll have a heart attack.”

  Leary started the car. “Is that really why you stopped me?”

  “Partly, yes. But also, after what happened with Witherell, I’m not about to call another shaky witness to the stand. If Raney’s this reluctant to tell the truth in his own house, who knows what he’ll say in court?”

  “I get that. But I think he saw that woman the night Edley wa
s killed.”

  Jessie looked out the window at Kent Edley’s house, where it sat empty and silent. “I agree. That’s why we need to find her. And we’re running out of time.”

  “All we have is a picture. She could be anyone. Where do we even start?”

  “I have an idea.”

  31

  Jessie and Leary found Emily Graham at her desk in the homicide bullpen. She looked up as they approached. Her eyes narrowed with anger. She’s still livid. Jessie almost faltered, but kept walking.

  Graham wheeled her chair back from her desk. “I’ve got nothing to say to you right now, Jessie.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not after what you put Toby through at that hearing.”

  “Then talk to me.” Leary leaned a hip against her desk.

  Frustrated, Jessie stood back and let him take the lead.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Graham said.

  “Hazenberg.”

  “My favorite topic,” Graham said dryly.

  Leary laughed, and a smile broke through Graham’s angry expression. Now that the tension was broken, both of them seemed to relax.

  Jessie wasn’t surprised. Leary looked completely at home in the squad room, and Jessie knew that if it had been up to him, he’d still be working here as a homicide detective. He had a knack for diffusing tension and staying on task.

  “Those women whose names and numbers you found on Kent Edley’s phone,” Leary said, “the ones with first names only.”

  “What about them?”

  “You interviewed them? Met with them in person?”

  “Yes. Their statements are in the file.” Graham turned her face to glare at Jessie. “Or are you about to tell me we screwed that up, too?”

  Apparently the tension was not completely diffused.

  “I never said you screwed anything up,” Jessie said. “Toby made a mistake. It happens. We still need to win this case or Hazenberg is going to walk out of jail a free man. You’ve been watching the trial. You know I’m right.”

  Graham let out a breath. “We interviewed the women, but we didn’t learn much. Edley had a little harem going. Married women. Toby and I figured he preferred them married to help him avoid commitment, but that’s just a theory. Who knows? Maybe it also gave him a thrill—doing something he’s not supposed to do.”

  “Did one of the women from Edley’s phone look like this?” Jessie took the printout from her bag and handed it to Graham. Graham looked at the image of the black-haired woman hurrying past the convenience store security camera. The skin between her eyes wrinkled with concentration.

  “I recognize the security camera view,” Graham said. “Same night?”

  Cops always seemed to demand answers before giving any. Jessie supposed it was just part of the cop personality. “Yes. We think she was there. Inside Edley’s house during the murder.”

  Graham’s eyes widened. “That seems like a jump.”

  “Not if her hair winds up matching the hairs found on Edley’s body,” Leary said. “But we can’t test that until we know who she is.”

  “Is this one of the women you found from the list in Edley’s phone?” Jessie said.

  “No.” Graham handed the sheet of paper back to Jessie.

  “Are you certain?” Jessie said.

  Graham gave her a look. That was all the answer Jessie needed.

  “Okay,” Jessie said. She tried not to feel deflated. “Thanks.”

  “But I only interviewed half of the women,” Graham said. “Toby interviewed the other eight.”

  Jessie felt a rush of hope. “Where is Toby?” She scanned the squad room, but didn’t see Novak.

  “He’s at home. After that hearing, he took some time off.”

  Jessie ignored the accusatory tone in her friend’s voice. “We need to see him.”

  They drove to Novak’s house, but Mable, Novak’s wife of over forty years, stopped them at the door. She recognized Jessie and glared.

  Graham had looked angry at the Roundhouse. This woman looked furious.

  “You have a lot of nerve coming here.”

  “Please, Ms. Novak, if Toby is home, we really need to talk to him. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  The woman did not budge. “I think you’ve done enough to my husband. He doesn’t need to talk to you ever again.”

  Graham put a hand on Mable Novak’s arm. In a gentle voice, she said, “I know what Toby’s going through. I know Jessie is the last person he wants to see. But I wouldn’t have brought her here if I didn’t think it was necessary. What we’re going to say to Toby might actually make him feel better. Can you trust me on this? Toby is my partner. You know I would never hurt him.”

  Mable seemed to study Graham for a moment. She nodded reluctantly. “I trust you, Emily.”

  “Thank you.”

  “He’s around back, on the patio.” The woman’s face darkened. “But … he’s not really in a good place right now. I’m not sure how helpful he’s going to be.”

  Rounding the corner of the house, they learned what she meant. Novak sprawled on a lawn chair. He had a bottle of Jim Beam bourbon gripped in his right hand. He was drinking from the bottle, and it looked like he’d already consumed more than half of it. The air around him reeked of alcohol.

  Jessie glanced at Leary, who made a face. The three of them approached the detective in the lawn chair.

  “Jesus, Toby. It’s the middle of the day.” Graham yanked the bottle out of his hand and placed it on the table.

  “A few drinks in the sunshine never hurt anybody.” Novak’s words were slurred, but only slightly. Jessie thought his eyes looked reasonably alert.

  Suddenly, those eyes seemed to find her. “What are you doing here, Black? Come to personally crucify me? Did our great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania decide to have a lawyer present when the PPD fires my ass?”

  Leary stepped forward. “Leave it alone, Toby. Jessie’s not responsible for what happened to you in that courtroom. You are, and you know that.”

  “Oh, and now I have to hear from Black’s boyfriend-slash-detective. A man who really did get fired from the job. If this isn’t priceless, I don’t know what is.”

  “That’s enough,” Graham said. “We didn’t come here to fight. Just look at this.” She showed him the printout with the photograph of the black-haired woman.

  Novak snatched the paper from Graham. He brought it near his face. It took him a few seconds to focus on it. Then he shot forward in his chair. His face changed in an instant. He suddenly looked sober.

  “You recognize her?” Graham said.

  “Becky Runyan. She’s one of the women from Edley’s phone.”

  “You met with her?” Jessie said.

  Novak nodded. “She didn’t want to. Not surprising—she’s married and has a kid. But I convinced her to meet me at Rittenhouse Park. She admitted to having an affair with Edley. She seemed ashamed. And really shaken up by his death. I felt sorry for her.”

  “I bet she was shaken up,” Leary said. “She was there.”

  Novak’s gaze snapped to Leary. Then back to the picture. Even partially intoxicated, his brain made the connection between the security camera image and what Leary had just said. “Son of a bitch.”

  Becky Runyan, Jessie thought. Now we know who you are.

  “You’re going to talk to her?” Novak said to Jessie.

  Jessie nodded. “Right now, if possible. And you’re going to come with me.”

  Novak waved a hand. “You don’t have to let me tag along out of pity.”

  “I’m not.” Jessie said. “You already established rapport with her, convinced her to meet you once, and got her to open up enough to admit to the affair. I don’t have enough time left to start over with her. I need to build upon what you already started. I need your help, Detective.”

  Novak hesitated, but only for a few seconds. Then he rose from his chair and stood up straight.

  32

  “That’s her on th
e bench over there,” Novak said.

  It was a beautiful spring day and Rittenhouse Park in Center City was full of people. Joggers used the path looping around the park. Dogs and children played on the grass. And a variety of people, from teenagers to business people to retirees, sat on the benches to read or talk or just stare at their phones. The park smelled like fresh cut grass and flowers. Jessie breathed in the fresh air.

  Novak did not point at the woman. He just tilted his chin in her direction. Jessie saw an attractive woman sitting on a bench. There was a stroller beside her, with a sleeping child inside it.

  “Let me make the introduction,” Novak said. “She’s only expecting me. I didn’t want to spook her. Come on.”

  As they walked closer, Jessie saw that Becky Runyan wasn’t simply attractive. She was striking, with straight black hair that fell past her shoulders, a lithe but curvy figure, and big, soulful brown eyes. But when she saw them approaching, her eyes narrowed and her body seemed to stiffen. A protective hand clasped the handle of the stroller.

  Novak stopped about a foot from the bench. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me again.”

  Runyan’s gaze shifted to Jessie for a second, her unease evident, then back to Novak. “It didn’t sound like I had a choice.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Is she your partner?”

  “No. This is Jessica Black. She’s the prosecutor handling the case against Hazenberg.”

  Runyan flinched at the word “prosecutor” and seemed to shrink away from Jessie.

  “Why don’t Jessie and I sit down with you?” Novak said. “We’ll be less conspicuous that way, don’t you think?”

  “Okay.”

  Jessie and Novak joined Runyan on the bench. “We want to talk to you again about your relationship with Kent Edley,” Novak said.

  Becky Runyan tilted her head back and looked at a flock of birds soaring overhead. “I wish I could fly away right now,” she said. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head. With shame, guilt, fear, or annoyance, Jessie couldn’t tell. Maybe all of the above.

  Jessie and Novak waited.