by David Thurlo
“Well, around here, that does suggest Rio Rancho, though I’m sure if you took a survey, there are a bunch of former easterners scattered around the metro area and all kinds of accents. But it gives us a starting place—and initials, hopefully, unless BJ is just a nickname. You think you could work up a sketch based upon her description?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, a generic one, at least, and I think I should do two, one without the tat. Lori might be willing to look it over and correct any details,” Gordon suggested. “Should we pass this along to the Rio Rancho cops, or sit on it?”
“Let’s give it to our detective, along with whatever sketches you can come up with, Gordon. DuPree’s worked with us on this from the beginning.”
“You suppose he’ll be disappointed that the RR cops don’t already have this information?” Gordon asked.
“More like pissed,” Charlie observed. “They should have already interviewed Lori. Until just a few weeks ago, she was in a position to see who Ray hung around with, at least at Bojo. I wonder if they really are swamped with investigations, or if the cops up there are taking their time for other reasons. Frank was an ex-cop and may have had contacts within the department before all this went down, maybe even made some friends. You suppose someone on the force could be looking out for one of their own—kind of?”
“Not unless he has a real friend on the force, and I didn’t get that feeling from the detectives we’ve run into. Bad cops reflect on all of them. Still, it’s something DuPree needs to work on. The detectives might just resent our gathering information that they should have uncovered on their own.”
“You’re probably right. Let’s get to the shop, and you can work up sketches while I help out Jake and Ruth,” Charlie suggested, turning south down Albuquerque’s Fourth Street. “They can take their first coffee break a little early this morning.”
“Sounds good. I’ll also enter what Lori gave us into the computer so we can send it as a file to DuPree. And Nancy too?” Gordon offered.
Charlie nodded as they stopped at a red light about a mile north of FOB Pawn. “Just send DuPree’s first.”
The sound of a siren caught Charlie’s attention, and he checked the rearview mirror. He eased to the right and quickly slowed to a stop along the curb just as an APD police cruiser roared past at high speed. He started to move back out into the lane, then heard another siren and stopped again. This time it was a fire department EMT vehicle.
This time he waited.
“Must be a traffic accident,” Gordon commented. “Don’t hear any more.”
Just then, Charlie’s cell phone rang. He brought the device out of his shirt pocket and looked at the display. “It’s the shop,” he announced, activating the speaker, then setting the device on the console.
Charlie recognized Jake’s voice instantly.
“Boss, it’s Jake. Get over here as soon as you can. I just found a body in the alley.”
In spite of the message, Jake’s voice was almost normal. The guy was good at keeping his cool. He’d seen worse.
Chapter Fifteen
“You and Ruth okay?” Charlie asked immediately.
“Yes. I called the police just a minute ago, and I already hear sirens. I’m going back out into the alley to meet them.”
“Ask Ruth to stay inside the shop. We’re just a few blocks away ourselves.”
“Jake, before you go! This is Gordon. Is the dead man … How old is he?”
Charlie knew instantly that Gordon was trying to rule out Sam.
“Young man, maybe twenty-five. He’d been shot in the torso, I think,” Jake responded quietly. “And maybe the head.”
“Does he have a spiderweb tattoo on his neck?” Charlie asked.
“How’d you know, boss?”
Charlie looked over at Gordon, who nodded. “BJ.”
* * *
“Brice Lester Jorpeland is BJ’s legal name,” DuPree announced, nodding toward the crime scene tech, who was placing the contents of the victim’s pockets into an evidence pouch. Charlie had confirmed that this was the man in the sedan, armed with a carbine, who’d been outside his house the other night.
“No wonder he preferred BJ,” Gordon commented, looking down the alley, which was mostly blocked, with the ambulance closest to the street and the crime scene van farther inside, opposite the green-painted trash bin. Jake’s and Ruth’s vehicles were next to the building in their regular slots. The body had been removed from the trash bin and was now in a zipped-up body bag on a lightweight gurney.
Two unlucky techs were beginning the examination of the contents of the trash bin, first handing out the black plastic trash bags that had been dumped by the pawnshop. Fortunately, unless something had been added by an outsider, most of the trash was just junk that couldn’t be sold or recycled.
“Getting to the point, Charlie, you think you might have been responsible for the victim’s torso wound during that incident at your house?” DuPree asked.
“Based upon the trajectory, yes. If he was the driver of that pickup, one or more of the bullets I fired through the driver’s door would have struck him around that level. The victim had a bandage on that wound, is that right?” Charlie asked, looking toward the body bag.
DuPree nodded. “He might have been able to drive the pickup a little farther, and it would explain the blood found in the interior of the recovered vehicle. Until we get a match with the blood, though, we won’t know for sure if he’d been in the vehicle cab.”
“Could he have been the guy shooting from the pickup bed?” Gordon asked. “He was the guy with the carbine the night before.”
“I doubt it. There was no blood back there. Just a lot of sand and some plastic fibers,” DuPree said. “The lab techs believe the shooter probably lined that side of the pickup bed with some sandbags for protection. Then they were dumped later. The other shooter, or shooters if there were more than two, could be anywhere now. The medical investigator said there’s no exit wound from the chest trauma, so the bullet is still in there.”
DuPree looked over toward the crime scene van, where the investigator had gone to work on his report.
“You’ve got my Beretta already, and I’m betting any recovered slug will match what I fired the other night. But I didn’t shoot the guy in the back of the head—that’s the work of someone else, not me,” Charlie stated.
“Looks like this guy was finished off by whoever was with him, then dumped here last night or early this morning to point the finger at Charlie,” Gordon said. “Which means that there are more than the three original perps involved. That the way you see it, Detective?”
“Yeah. Crap. I’d hoped to have all this wrapped up today after you sent me the physical description and those sketches.”
“How close did I get?” Gordon asked.
“Not bad, especially with the tattoo on the neck. I’m eager to see if BJ had a criminal record prior to getting that prominent tattoo, and what kind of background he has in common with the other dead guy and Ray Geiger,” DuPree responded.
“Detective?” one of the crime scene techs called out from the trash bin. “There’s nothing else in here except an empty six-pack and some miniatures. Want us to bag and tag them for possible prints?”
“Yeah, get it all,” DuPree responded. Then he turned back to Charlie and Gordon. “Good work with that Lori girl. I’ve already passed along what she gave you to the detectives at Rio Rancho. They didn’t offer any excuses, but promised to pick up the pace and follow up on BJ’s associates with another interview of Ray Geiger.”
“So they still don’t have anything new?” Charlie asked.
“Not according to Detective Johnson. Just denials from Ray’s attorney that his client was involved. The fact that the detectives haven’t been able to corroborate his Outpost Bar alibi doesn’t seem to bother him. He still claims that the scratch came from one of those women.”
“What about Charlie’s ID of Ray at the scene?” Gordon asked.
“Mothers and fathers always lie to protect their kids, even when they commit the crime right in front of them. What about DNA?” Gordon asked. “Margaret scratched the guy, and they sent nail scrapings to the state lab in Santa Fe.”
“No results yet. This isn’t TV. In real life these tests can take weeks, especially here in New Mexico,” DuPree reminded them. “The state lab is always behind schedule.”
“So unless we can get something else solid against Ray, he has a chance of walking. That’s it?”
“We’ll get more. But Charlie, you need to continue to watch your back. And pick up your original weapon. It’s in my vehicle in the cardboard box. The lab people are done with it for now. Also, don’t stay in the same place two nights in a row, watch for a tail, and be unpredictable,” DuPree advised. “Instead of Sam Randal, it looks like the crew has settled on you as the target, at least for the moment. Which makes me even more certain that Ray Geiger is guilty. Why else go after the only eyewitness?”
“Ray, and maybe his dad, obviously have someone else working on their behalf trying to take Charlie out,” Gordon concluded. “Does that mean you think the Randals are going to be safe now?”
Charlie shook his head. “They attacked his business, so we can’t risk it. I’m still not sure that we know why the Randals were targeted, or why they tried to kidnap Sam—twice. My being able to pick Ray out of a photo array is just a complication. I’m not part of the original motive, I’m just the most dangerous liability to them.”
“Good point. With you, however, it might be more a revenge motive for the shooting outside the hospital, which also serves the Geigers. I’m going to go into the Randals’ backgrounds and Sam’s business and personal relationships. Part of the picture is still missing,” DuPree observed.
“Anything else on Eldon, that electrical contractor he cut ties with?” Charlie asked.
“Nothing yet. Officers can’t get anyone to answer the door, and all my calls have gone straight to voice mail.”
“Maybe the guy was a friend and Mrs. Randal feels awkward discussing it,” Charlie pointed out, recalling his earlier conversation. “It’s worth pursuing a little more.”
DuPree nodded. “You’re right about that.”
“We’ll do what we can in the meantime,” Gordon said.
DuPree groaned. “Just stay away from the Geigers. Can you do that?”
“For now. But we’re going to be working around them just a little,” Charlie answered, not mentioning the idea he had in mind at the moment.
* * *
An hour later, having sent Ruth and Jake to an early lunch, Charlie looked over into the office where Gordon was seated and caught his eye. There were two customers in the shop at the time, looking through sale items on the Cool Shelf, the area with various used fans and room air conditioners.
Gordon came out of the office and walked over to the front register where he was standing. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you’d give Lori Hansen a call, tell her about BJ, and thank her again for her help. Pour on the charm, then ask if there are any others at Bojo who engaged in conversation with any of our suspects, Ray and the two dead guys. We know there is at least one more still out there,” Charlie noted.
“Yeah, maybe she can think of someone, or lead us to someone else who might know—other than those sensei who helped Frank test the durability of the floor mats.”
Charlie grinned.
“Whatever. I’ll give her a call,” Gordon replied. “Wave if things start to get busy out here. Just the two at the moment?” He looked up at one of the big surveillance mirrors to verify. It gave him an idea. “I’ll do that now.”
Gordon went back to the office and got on the phone. About ten minutes later, he came out into the shop again and gave Charlie the thumbs-up sign. “I asked her about surveillance cameras at the dojo,” he said. “There aren’t any, but one of the neighboring businesses might have them. She’s friendly with most of the people who work around there, so she’s going to check. She’s free until seven tonight. I told her we’d come get her as soon as Ruth and Jake were back from lunch to take over here.”
“We should have thought of that before,” Charlie said. “Or the police should have, anyway.”
“Better late than never,” Gordon said. At that moment, the customers at the Cool Shelf announced they were ready to make a purchase, so Charlie went over to wait on them.
By the time they’d completed the transaction, Jake and Ruth were back. Charlie and Gordon let them know where they were going and headed out to pick up Lori at her apartment.
When they arrived at the Rio Rancho shopping center where Bojo was located, they parked in front of the supermarket, farther down, hoping that the Dodge would blend in. Dodge Chargers weren’t rare, but Charlie’s was purple and relatively distinctive.
Luckily, just a few minutes after they arrived, Lori’s friend Rachel, who worked solo at the dry cleaners next to the dojo, was able to help them out. She agreed to let them copy the surveillance DVDs so they could survey them elsewhere. While Charlie copied the disks onto a portable machine, Gordon and the two women remained in the customer area of the business, talking about Bojo and those individuals they remember seeing that fit the right adult age group.
Though there were only a few disks to copy, which covered just the past month, there were three sets, one for the two front cameras, one for the interior, and a third for the camera covering the back exterior of the building, which included the rear door and a loading dock.
“I’m done here,” Charlie announced, coming out of the office, a partitioned area located in the back room, which contained mostly large rails on a conveyer system, long sorting tables, and a few laundry bins.
“Great, and thanks, Rachel,” Gordon said to the tall, slender black woman who managed the place. Though she’d never had any problems with students at the dojo, like Lori, Rachel had been harassed by BJ and Tony Lorenzo and hated it. The punks had followed Lori into the dry cleaners once, and the women had some difficulty getting rid of them.
“I hope this helps track down the animals responsible for the attacks,” Rachel replied, moving away from the window, where she’d been watching the parking lot. “I can’t recall anyone else in particular who might be connected to BJ and Tony, and I still have a hard time believing Ray is involved. Of all my neighbors here, he’s been the most respectful. But if you know for sure it was him, Charlie, you’ve gotta do the right thing and send him back to jail.”
“Lori said that none of the kids who’ve had problems with the law have ever caused any problems for her. How about you?” Charlie asked Rachel as he looked out the big picture window toward the parking lot. Bojo students were beginning to arrive, dressed in their white uniforms.
“I’ve been asked out a few times, but always very politely, and by older students who came in alone. BJ and Tony came around together, feeding off of each other’s comments,” Rachel admitted. “They eased up when I showed them my boyfriend, though.” She pointed to a photo on the wall of a tall, broad-shouldered Marine in full dress uniform with a row of campaign and other decorations. “Joe is currently deployed on the America, an amphibious assault ship. He’s the only man in my life.”
“Oorah,” Gordon exclaimed. “May he come home safe.”
“Speaking of safe, guys, there are several kids hanging around Charlie’s Dodge. From here, they look like some of the crew Ray has been trying to set straight,” Lori interjected. “I know some of those kids, and they’ve never been any trouble, at least here. But with Ray’s current situation…”
“Looks like they�
��re loyal to the man, either way,” Charlie concluded. “Let’s go see what they want, Gordo.”
Gordon nodded, then looked over at Lori.
“I’m going with you boys. There must be ten of them. You might need some backup if they step over the line,” Lori added, then turned to Rachel. “Thanks for your help, girl. We’ll let you know if the visuals lead the police to a suspect.”
“I can lock up and follow you down,” Rachel offered.
“Not necessary. Stay here and take care of your business. You don’t need to make an enemy of Ray and his pop,” Gordon replied.
“I’ll keep watch, and if it gets ugly or I see a gun I’m calling the police,” Rachel said. “You two guys stay out of trouble. Lori here knows how to take care of herself.”
Charlie nodded, wondering if they’d made the right decision, leaving their concealed carry weapons in the car. “Of course.”
Chapter Sixteen
The moment they stepped out of the dry cleaners, several sets of eyes turned in their direction and conversations ended. There were two teenaged girls among the ten or so people standing on the sidewalk in the shade, and none of the school’s students looked to be over twenty years old. At least three of them were as tall as Charlie, however, and even the girls were Gordon’s size.
“A word of advice,” Lori whispered as they walked together down the sidewalk toward the gathering. “Try not to do anything that’s going to get these people in more trouble with the law.”
“All we want to do is nail the bad guys,” Charlie replied. “But clearly these people are here for a reason.”
Gordon nodded. “And we’re always reasonable.”
As they approached the loose gathering, Charlie brought out his car keys slowly and in clear view, not wanting to send the signal that he was arming himself with a knife or gun. They were all young people who’d supposedly been in trouble and, with that, probably some fights. Self-preservation required a certain level of profiling. He knew none of these people, but teens with an unpleasant history were often reactionary, paranoid, and prone to sudden violence.