Monday morning the two detectives and Stacy found out the victim had had many jobs in his short life. His latest job was custodian at a substance abuse clinic in Gresham. A phone call verified he had worked there, but quit just last week. Meanwhile the Portland State Police were searching the victim's apartment. Rory didn't expect any information forthcoming until later that day. The DMV indentified Glen Wilson's vehicle as a 1980 Chevrolet van. It had a personalized license plate: SWEPR. Well, Stacy thought, to each their own.
Stacy followed up on the drug rehab center. There was something nagging at her about the victim having worked there until just recently. What she wanted was a current and past list of patients. As the wheels were turning, she was especially interested to see if a Gordon Yeast, son of Sheriff Clinton Yeast, had been a patient. Private and confidential information is what she was told right up front from a caustic person on the other end of the line. Stacy wondered if there was another way around the information needed. She called her chief in Bandon.
"Hey chief, I need a favor I guess. I need to know if Gordon Yeast, son of the sheriff, was at the Gresham Drug Rehab Clinic?"
"That's an easy one officer. Yes, he was and if memory serves, he just completed his tour at the end of the month. His father volunteered the information just the other day. Oh, and by the way, you're welcome," he said hanging up before her.
The three investigators went to lunch while waiting for the state police to search the victim's apartment. Rory was driving; Ben riding his usual shotgun with Stacy in the back. "Okay Stacy, what you thinking," asked Rory.
"I'm thinking Glen Wilson was blackmailing patients where he worked. Somehow he must have pictures that he's using to extort money. We need to visit that place; if possible."
"Hum, you think so huh? Why do you think so Stacy," asked Ben.
"Well, he lived in Portland. He had four crisp one hundred dollar bills in his wallet. He's in the neighborhood of a former patient. I think he arranged a meet at the convenience store with Gordon Yeast for a payoff. Obviously things went from bad to worse for Glen Wilson. As a joke, they super glued his feet to the store's wall. If I'm not mistaken, we'll find a lot of evidence at Glen Wilson's apartment to confirm my suspicions," said Stacy.
"If what you say is confirmed Stacy, then we need DNA from Gordon Yeast in the worst way. If we can establish matching DNA from the sperm, then we have a strong case for the prosecution. If not, then we need to find who sodomized the victim. Also, as hairy as the victim was, maybe we could do a vacuum job on his car; if he has a car. Let's check on that with DMV," said Rory as they pulled into Denny's restaurant.
Stacy didn't miss the seating arrangement whereby Rory positioned himself directly across from her. She knew his feelings. It was so obvious that a high school girl could see the 'wanting' dripping off his chin. However, Stacy was respectful enough to not lead him on. Ben who saw it very well, just inwardly smiled and orders a cob salad with a diet coke. Stacy had crab salad, while Rory wolfed down a half pound cheese burger.
Back at the station, they found a work record for Glen Wilson. For the last five years he'd held jobs from fast food places to corporate janitorial work. Stacy noticed he had worked at the Beaverton Car Wash. She knew the owner and gave him a call. They chatted a bit and Ron dug out the file on Glen Wilson. He said, "He wasn't a bad worker, but we caught him pawing through the customers cars while he detailed the insides. I warned him about that and he promised to quit being snoopy. Another employee told me he was stealing porn books from under the seats when they were available. I gave him his walking papers. Now, I want to see you again. Nothing but friends for dinner?"
"I'm game Ron. I'm in the middle of a homicide and when I'm in your area, or you're down my way, let's get together. And thanks," said Stacy.
Later a call came in with the fax busy printing out sheet after sheet of lewd pictures of men together doing sexual acts. Stacy didn't find the picture offensive, but rather evidence in a murder case. The attitude would change, of course, if children were involved.
The three investigators sat around a table passing the pictures back and forth. Rory was on the phone with the lead detective who'd preformed the search. He said, "The place Rory is full of porn. There're video tapes, pictures, books, magazines and a computer full of downloaded digital pics. We've got a guy who going through the computer now looking for an address book with phone numbers. I think you're right that this victim was blackmailing current or former patients. I'm not sure whether or not you should come up to Portland or we should box everything and send it down to you. You let me know," said Paul.
"Talk about a can of worms," said Rory. What we need now is to make a plan and follow the plan step by step. First we need Gordon's vehicle found. Next we need his DNA. Any idea how to get his DNA guys? There were some fragments of prints on the glue bottles, so we need his prints also. After that we need to ID some of these blackmail victims to confirm Glen Wilson was shaking them down. Additionally we need to find his van, if possible. What else do we need," he asked looking from Stacy to Ben and back to Stacy again.
"I know Gordon Yeast. I wouldn't say we are friends, but I know him well enough to strike up a conversation. If hasn't nothing to hide, then he'll give me his DNA. If he's hiding something, well, then I'll steal the water glass or coke glass from the restaurant I'll take him to. My chief told me one of his officers is from Langlois. He'll search for the missing van.
Stacy went back to Bandon to make the call to Gordon Yeast. She also wanted to talk to her father about the Yeast family. He always knew more than he said; she inwardly smiled as she turned right on the old highway to Bandon from Coquille. In two minutes she was in the police station talking to the dispatcher Flo. Flo was a wealth of local gossip and Stacy had asked about the sheriff and his son Gordon as regards substance abuse and treatment. Flo said, "Gordon is home now. I think he came back the first of the month. As far as I know it's been real quiet as regards what he's doing or what he plans to do."
"What do you remember of the rape accusation that the Perkins girl claimed against Gordon," asked Stacy.
"Because the deputy who responded to the beach, destroyed any evidence, the sheriff's son skated," said Flo.
"I met Ellen the other day and she seemed a little spacey to me. Is she packing a full load upstairs," asked Stacy?
"Word has it that she is a little slow. Some might think incest was involved, but hard to prove. Anyway, that's water under the bridge. Gordon Yeast is a no good man who will probably wind up in prison some day," said Flo as she turned to answer a radio call from an officer on patrol. Stacy went to see her chief and father.
For anyone to observe the Bandon Chief of Police in his office, they would think he did nothing all day long except play with a yellow pencil and a legal pad on his desk. Seldom would anyone see but only a few scribbles on the note pad. Stacy sat down and asked, "Chief, the other day Sheriff Yeast was in to see you. Did that have anything to do with our case," she asked.
"Yes and no. It seemed to me he was digging for information about your case. He seemed eager to know what, who, when and where all that stuff concerning the homicide. I told him I knew very little as it was out of my hands. He did inquire that you were involved and that I would know more than just a few things. I told him you were very close to the chest with information. I added it was none of my business, but if it became my business, I would want to know all there is to know," said the chief.
"What about his son Gordon Yeast. I need to see him and don’t want to go in cold, so to speak. I need his DNA and prints," said Stacy.
"Prints we have from the time at the beach party. DNA is another matter. You'll find a way I'm sure. In my opinion, the kid is not worth much. Drugs and alcohol are monkeys on his back. Let me see if I can find out where he hangs out these days from some guys I know up in Coquille," said the chief.
"I'd like to meet him in a restaurant where I can, hopefully, get his DNA.
"Like you did w
ith the golf course case, just ask him to volunteer his DNA," said the chief.
Stacy went to her desk in a room that served all four of the police officers. She felt lucky to even have a desk considering the size of the small town of Bandon with less than 2000 citizens. She made the call to the Sheriff's house where Gordon was staying. Stacy was a little surprised when Gordon answered the phone. She told him who she was and asked for a get together. He hemmed and mumbled some unintelligent words that had nothing to do with answering the question she put to him. Finally he said, "Okay, if you're buying I'm eating."
"Yes, I'm buying Gordon. I'll meet you at the Birdcage in thirty minutes; okay?"
"Are you still as cute as you used to be Stacy Foreham," asked Gordon.
"Seeing is believing Gordon Yeast," answered Stacy.
An Empty Bird Cage
Stacy was a little surprised Gordon Yeast showed up at the Birdcage Restaurant. He was even on time. She noticed he had filled out and looked like a young man, instead of a pimple faced teen she remembered. He seemed confident with a nice smile, as he sat down across from her in the booth. Both stared at each other for a few seconds. Then he said, "Yes, seeing is believing Stacy. You're a damn site better looking now than before."
"Well, you're not too hard on the eyes either," she replied. "I'm a little hungry so let's order."
The waitress was hanging around waiting for their order. It was just before dinner time so the place wasn't so busy. Gordon said, "I'll have a double bacon cheese burger with fries please."
"A nice load of fat Gordon. I'll have the special meatloaf please," said Stacy.
After the waitress had taken off, Gordon said, "Well, what can I do for you officer Stacy?"
"I'll not beat around the bush Gordon. You were in Gresham at a rehab clinic. I'm wonder if you knew our homicide victim Glen Wilson. Here's a picture of him. He worked there while you were a patient. Does he look familiar," asked Stacy while she looked him in the eye.
Gordon looked at the picture with not a lot of interest. He twisted it around then said, without looking at Stacy, "I'm not sure. I may have seen him and not remembered seeing such an ugly face. Is he the guy you found in the trash cans down at Perkins store?"
"Yes, with his feet super glued to the wall. We think this homicide victim was blackmailing some patients at the Gresham clinic. Was Glen Wilson blackmailing you Gordon," asked Stacy.
Gordon was now slightly squirming while the waitress saved him by delivering dinner. As he piled on the ketchup, he said with confidence returning, "Why no, he wasn't. Why would he black mail me or others for that matter?"
Stacy said, "He was photographing sexual acts with either participating individuals or taking pictures covertly. In his apartment we found dozens of pictures of mostly men with men performing sexual acts. Now Gordon, we don't know who killed Glen Wilson, but we'd like your DNA to eliminate you from our list of suspects."
She watched him closely even though she forked in the tasteless meatloaf while he mused about the idea of providing DNA. Gordon was no dummy living with a father who was a police officer. He said, "I'll think about it Stacy. I didn't kill the guy, but I guess I don't expect you to believe me. I'm a juicer and druggie, but not a killer."
"Let's hope you are telling the truth Gordon. I'd like to see you clean and sober. Can you tell me where and what you were doing on Wednesday night into Thursday morning the 12th," asked Stacy.
By now he'd wolfed down the burger and was fingering the fries. Stacy had shoved her plate of half finished food away. The waitress came and frowned while taking the plates away. Gordon said, "Me and my friend, Benny Parsons, went to a movie in Coos Bay, then we cruised the bars looking for some girls. We didn't get lucky and came home around 1 am. No, nobody can swear I was home at 1 am. My father was not home. My mother was fast asleep. That's about it Stacy."
"Your friend Benny Parsons, where can I find him and do you have phone number?"
"Yes, I already copied it down for you. Here you go. Now, if there are no more questions, I'll be on my way," Gordon said.
"Just one more question. When will you give me an answer about the DNA?"
"I guess now is as good a time as any. You and your kind would find a way to obtain regardless of my permission. Swab Stacy," Gordon leaned over the table opening his mouth for the cotton swab.
When she finished, with the swab secured in a Ziplock bag, she said, "One more thing Gordon," as he stood up to leave, "What if we find a compromising photo in Glen Wilson's apartment of you?
"That doesn't mean I murdered the dude Stacy," said Gordon as he walked out leaving a happy Stacy with what she'd come for: Gordon Yeast's DNA.
The road from Coquille to Bandon is not a road to daydream on. The road follows the meandering Coquille River to Bandon where it empties into the Pacific Ocean. The trip takes only about a half an hour, but few straight a ways are evident. Stacy was ready for a good night's sleep. But before that she called Rory to update him on the good news receiving voluntarily from Gordon Yeast his DNA.
Rory congratulated her and then said, "It appears our victim was shaking down a lot of current and former patients at Gresham Clinic. Among those we ID was your DNA guy Gordon Yeast. The picture is not flattering at all; but there's no doubt it's him. At this point we have motive and if nobody can verify his whereabouts on the night of the homicide, he has opportunity."
"We're getting somewhere now Rory. I need some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow," said Stacy.
After they hung up, Rory had secret desires that aren’t for publication at this point.
Portland
Rory, Ben and Stacy took a flight out of North Bend to Portland. A state police van picked them up and drove to the Gresham Clinic. From the airport it was not far to both the clinic and Glen Wilson's apartment. The staff at the clinic was aware of the police coming. Most of the staff was familiar with the police as many patients had records.
Stacy saw a rather drab setting that was slowly being surrounded by strip malls. Gresham was on the highway to Mt. Hood where denizens by the thousands flocked to the mountain and the surrounding camp grounds. In the fall, which was not far away, the drive was lovely viewing the changing leaves.
But now it was back to business. They entered into a sterile reception area where a plus size receptionist stood smiling at them. She said, "Welcome and our director have instructed all of us to fully cooperate. She'll be with you in a minute."
Stacy looked at the ever present plastic chairs and table with ancient issues of various publications. None wanted to sit down. All stood waiting for the director who shortly came out with a flourish. Some might think she had run from an outbuilding to greet the police. "I'm Director Bly. Please call me Sally. Follow me please to my office. Stacy led the way to a nondescript office with four chairs lined up in front of a very messy desk. Sally Bly sat down and let out a big lung full of air.
She said, "You wanted to see our files on an employee named Glen Wilson and a patient named Gordon Yeast. Here are copies for each of you to look at. While you're reading I'll ask Ms. Hodge to bring us some coffee."
Stacy was reading Glen Wilson record of employment and his resume. She wondered if Sally Bly had checked the references or just filled a slot that was open. Sally came back in with a tray of coffee for each including herself. Stacy wasted no time and asked, "Ms. Bly, or Sally, did you ever suspect Glen Wilson of selling drugs and or trading drugs for illicit pictures of pornographic nature?"
"My heavens no I have no knowledge of any of what you're talking about," Sally said rather boisterous.
"Look at this photograph and tell me if you recognize the two men and then room where the picture was taken," asked Stacy.
Sally reached out taking the 8 X 11 picture. She sat it on her desk while putting on her half glasses. She gasped and held her hand to her neck. "My lord, this can't be a picture taken here. Yes, that is Gordon Yeast and one of our current patients, Sam Wakefield. Sam is a former pro footba
ll player from the Seattle Seahawks. He's a quiet soft spoken man with a major drug problem namely cocaine. That too was Gordon Yeast's drug of choice."
Rory said, "Sally, please have Sam Wakefield come to a room whereby we can interview him. Let me reiterate that we're investigating a homicide of one of your former employees."
"Let me make a call. Wait a minute please." She spoke rather harshly to the person on the other end telling someone what she wanted; and wanted now!
"We have a conference room down the hall. Please follow me."
They'd no sooner sat down when a knock on the door produced a small mountain of a man, Sam Wakefield. To Stacy he seemed quiet and reserved. Sally showed him where to sit and introduced the investigators from the Oregon State Police Homicide Division. Sam raised an eyebrow and other than that showed no other emotion.
Rory asked, sliding the same picture that Sally viewed across to Sam, "Will you confirm Mr. Wakefield that is you in the picture?"
"Yes, I sure can. What else do you want to know," he asked in a deep voice.
"We're interested in who took the picture and what payment, if any, took place," said Rory.
"Glen the Weasel took the pictures. He supplied the coke. The deal was if Gordon did a good job, he would receive a couple grams plus what was sprinkled on my unit. I got three grams for supplying my rather large unit. Glen would post the pics to the Internet," said Sam.
Stacy didn't learn anything more than what she suspected. Stacy asked, "Mr. Wakefield, did Glen ever try to blackmail you with going public?"
"Yes, he tried, but after a couple of my friends held him down, I gave him one for free up his backside. After that he gave me no trouble."
"Are you aware he was murdered more than a week ago," said Rory.
"I read the papers. It's not a big loss in my book. I'll miss the wiff, but not the source. Others can tell you about the same story. There's a reason we're in here detectives. It's really difficult to rid the monkey on our backs. No I don’t want you to feel sorry for us. We make our own bed and sleep in it."
Murder Mysteries Page 9