Code of Deceit: A Mystery/Detective novel (David Mason series)

by John Foxjohn

  “Because I don’t have any evidence yet.”

  Spinks’ face turned red as a beet. “Are you getting so obsessed with this case you’re picking people up off the street?”

  Patterson frowned at Spinks, and turned to David. “What do you have?”

  David told them what had happened, and Inspector Patterson nodded.

  “You can’t pick someone up and bring them to the police station on your hunches. Who taught you this dumb crap?”

  Inspector Patterson cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, I taught him this dumb crap.”

  “You, sir?”

  “That’s right, Lieutenant. That question has solved more murders in this country than anything else.”

  Spinks shook his head. “I guess I’m slow. I can’t see how you can suspect him because he answered a question.”

  Patterson massaged his neck. “Lieutenant, where were you on July 8th?”

  “Sir?”

  “Where were you on July 8th?”

  “I don’t know. AM or PM?”

  “AM.”

  “I don’t know. At work, I guess. What day of the week?”

  “That’s the point in a nutshell, Lieutenant. He didn’t ask AM or PM. He already knew the time, and the only way he could’ve known the time if he committed the crime. Lieutenant, people who perpetrate serious crimes make up alibis in their heads for the time the crime took place. Only way he could know what he did on a particular day several months ago without checking is if he killed that woman.”

  Inspector Patterson turned to David. “What’re you going to do?”

  “Crime scene lifted one finger print from the house that didn’t belong to Ms. Harris. They found it on a shower rod. She took a shower that morning, and the water would have messed the print up if the killer hadn’t left it. I’m going to see if we have a match. If we do, I’m going to get a search warrant and search his house.”

  “Okay, go to work.”

  When David asked a new homicide detective to baby-sit Mr. Cartwright, keep him busy, but under no circumstances allow him to leave, the detective’s face turned red. Glaring, hands on hips, he told David, “Find someone else to do your babysitting.”

  David stared at him for a long moment. He wasn’t going to let this go on in his own division. He smiled and wiggled his finger for Mimms to follow him. When the door closed, David turned. “Mimms, how long have you been on the police department?”

  “Eight years, but it’s none of your business.”

  David tapped his hand on his thigh. “You’ve been in homicide for three months. Right?” “Yeah. So?”

  David’s eyes narrowed. “You should know something about rank structure. It happens, I’m a detective sergeant in this police department and you’re a grade three detective. I don’t care what you want to do. You’ll do what I tell you or you’re out of this department. Do I make myself clear?”

  Mimms glared. “Yeah. I hear you.”

  He put his hands on his hips, and smiled with no warmth. “You might pass the word to the others. I’m not putting up with you, or anyone else.”

  He fumed, striding to the crime scene unit. If the idiots thought they’d intimidate him, they had another think coming. He found Lieutenant Joe Hughes at his desk.

  “Joe, I’ve a suspect upstairs in our office, and I think he’s the one who killed Ms. Harris.”

  “Which one’s she?”

  “The homicide where you found the unusual finger print on the shower rod.”

  “I remember. I still have it here on my desk somewhere.” He searched through his stacks. “Here it is. I’ll check our files real quick and see if we have any prints on file.”

  David followed him over to the long wall lined with six-drawer, black file cabinets.

  “What’s the suspect’s name?” Joe asked.

  “Raymond Wayne Cartwright.”

  He flipped through the alphabetical files. “I’ve three Raymond Wayne Cartwrights. Do you have a social security number or birth date?”

  “Yep. May 10th, 1951.”

  “Okay, he’s here. His prints are on file because he applied for a vendor’s license.”

  Joe took the fingerprint card over to his desk and got out his loupe.

  “David. Take a look at this.”

  When David looked into the loupe, his heart soared. They had a perfect match. “Hot dang. Joe, we have his butt.”

  David turned to leave and Joe called his name. David turned and waited for it to come, but Joe was the last person he expected to get any crap from.

  “Listen, David—I—uh…”

  David, hands on hips, waited for it to come. Same old BS about their code, all the crap he’d already heard. He took a deep breath, waiting.

  “David, I don’t know what to say, I wanted to tell you I’m behind you on this. I think you did the right thing.”

  He scratched his head and a relieved sigh escaped. At least everyone wasn’t against him. “Thanks Joe. That means a lot to me.”

  Striding back to the detective room, he found Cartwright looking at mug shots, but when David entered, Mimms sidled over and told him Cartwright demanded to leave.

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “I told him you had to step out for a few minutes, and he couldn’t leave until you returned.”

  “Good, he’s not to leave.”

  “What if he insists?”

  “If he continues to insist, take him to interrogation room four. Handcuff him to the chair and leave him.”

  “Okay, if you say so. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do.”

  David found Henry in his office going over some paperwork. “We need a search warrant for everything Cartwright owns.”

  “Prints matched?”

  “Perfectly. Eighteen points.”

  Henry straightened his jacket. “Are you going to fill out the affidavit?”

  “Yeah, I’ll fill it out if you’ll locate a cooperative judge.”

  David sat in his office filling out the paperwork when Lieutenant Spinks pushed in. “Mimms took your suspect to number four. He’s demanding to leave. Do you have anything?”

  “Lieutenant, the fingerprint matched. I can place him inside that bathroom, and on the morning the murder occurred.”

  “You got lucky. You’re going to need more.”

  “And I’ll have more. I’m filling out the affidavit for a search warrant, and Henry’s finding a judge.”

  “Keep me informed.”

  As David worked on the affidavit, someone else knocked on the door. When he looked up, Joel Patella, a new detective, stood in the doorway. What now? He was never going to get the paperwork done if people didn’t leave him alone.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Patella asked.

  “A minute. I’m in a rush.”

  “I went to a homicide yesterday. We have a suspect and a good eyewitness who believes he can identify the suspect. I put together a six-pack for the witness to identify, but the lieutenant says the pack isn’t any good. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

  David frowned. “Did he say why?”

  “No.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Patella stepped forward and handed David the pictures. He glanced at them, and leaned back in his seat. “Is the suspect black or white?”

  “Does that make a difference?”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “He’s black.”

  “Spinks is correct, but he should’ve told you why. You’ve a black suspect, but you have four whites in the photos. There’s no way a witness is going to pick a white person out when a black person’s guilty. If you have a black suspect, all the ones in the lineup need to be black.”

  Patella frowned. “Is the same true with a white suspect?”

  “Of course it is. This isn’t about race. Listen. Years ago, police with black suspects put them in line-ups with five whites. Witnesses had to pick the black suspect out. That’s
why the courts have set guidelines on this.”

  “Thanks, David. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I took your advice in court and it worked.”

  “What advice?”

  “I asked you last week what I should watch out for in court and you told me to make a copy of my report and put the copy in my pocket.”

  David chuckled. “Yeah, that’s an old trick defense attorneys like to pull. Judges know it, too. I sat in the courtroom one time, and a detective testified on the stand. The defense attorney started asking questions. He took out his report to make sure he had his facts straight, and the attorney asked to see it. When the detective handed it to him, the attorney glanced at it and declared it evidence and the detective couldn’t look at it anymore.”

  Patella laughed. “Yeah, you should’ve seen the look on his face when I reached in and brought out the copy. He tried to get it in evidence too, but the judge wouldn’t allow it because he already had the exact same thing entered.”

  “Joel, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m in a hurry here.”

  “No problem, thanks again.”

  Henry trudged up. “Are you finished? Judge Colburn is in his office waiting to look over the papers.”

  “One minute. I’m trying, but I can’t seem to get people to leave me alone long enough to get finished.”

  When he finished typing the last lines, he took the document out and handed it to Henry. “Would you get Peggy to notarize this for me?”

  “Yep, but you had better sign it first, sergeant.”

  David glanced up at Henry, who had a funny tone in his voice. “Is something bothering you, Henry?”

  “No,” he hesitated a moment. “I’m tired. Need a vacation.”

  With a frown, David cocked his head. Something bothered Henry. He didn’t act like his usual self. He wondered if he’d done something to offend him, or if he was catching flak from the others, too. He decided he’d better let it drop for now. Henry would tell him when the time was right. He signed the legal document with a flourish. “Don’t we all.”

  Henry and David drove to the judge’s office. He looked over the sworn document, asked a few questions, and issued an open-ended search warrant. When David got back to the detective division, he traipsed to Lieutenant Spinks’ office. “Lieutenant, I’d like to see if I can get a couple of detectives to search Cartwright’s house.”

  “What’re you and Henry going to be doing?”

  “Interrogating.”

  “I’ll get Duncan and Mills to go. Let me see the warrant.”

  Spinks glanced at the warrant and slid it across his desk. “Why did you get an open- ended warrant?”

  “I don’t know what all we’ll have to search, yet. We may have to look in other places besides his house.”

  He nodded. “Get to work, sergeant.”

  David started to throw him a salute, but stopped. “Yes, sir.”

  Henry waited in David’s office. “Okay, boss, what’re we going to do?”

  “Duncan and Mills are on the way to search the house.”

  “We’re going to interrogate?” Henry asked.

  “You bet we are.”

  “Thought so, why did you have him put in four?”

  “I want the cameras rolling on this one,” David said.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yes, Henry there is. I’m going to call Beth.”

  Henry nodded. “When do I get to meet her?”

  David, with his mind miles from no place, brushed his hair. “Soon, I hope. What I need you to do is call the refinery and find out if Cartwright worked that day. If he did, what time he showed up for work.”

  “Hmm,” Henry said. “I should’ve done it already.”

  When Henry lumbered out, David looked at his watch. One-thirty. Beth had her conference period in an hour. He called the school and left a message for her. As David flipped through the original report on the Harris murder, Henry approached with a smile.

  “Are we making him sweat?”

  David wiped the stubble on his chin with his open hand. “Yep. Would like more ammo before we go in there.”

  Henry laughed. “Here are a couple big bullets for you. Cartwright didn’t work on July 8. They had him on schedule at eight in the morning, but he called in sick at nine-fifteen.”

  David smiled. “I like that bullet.”

  “You think he’ll confess?”

  “Don’t know. That’s the reason I put him in four.”

  “Yep, you always think of everything,” Henry said.

  David glanced up. This wasn’t like Henry. Something in his tone. He needed to find out now what the problem was. “Henry, shut the door, please.”

  Chapter 11

  With an irritated gesture, Henry said, “Prisoner in four’s screaming his head off.”

  “Let him scream. We need to talk,” David said.

  Henry shut the door and slumped in the chair across from David’s desk.

  “Have I done something to make you mad, Henry?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, I know you too well.”

  “Yeah, I guess you do.”

  David leaned forward. “You’re more than a partner. You’re my friend.”

  Henry nodded.

  “What have I done?”

  “You haven’t done anything.”

  Henry held up his hand to stop David. “Let me finish.”

  “Okay.”

  “You haven’t done anything. There are times I’m jealous.”

  David’s eyes widened in surprise. Henry couldn’t mean he was jealous of him. “Why? Because of the promotion?”

  “No, it isn’t that. I don’t care about promotions. First, I want to tell you. You’re without a doubt the best detective I’ve ever seen.” Henry raised his hand again. “Let me finish.”

  David nodded. He’d been so caught up in his own problems he hadn’t noticed something bothered Henry. Fine friend he was.

  “I’m serious. Everyone in this police department knows how good you are. I know. I see it every day we work together. I’m not jealous of your promotion, or the attention you get. You deserve it.” Henry dropped his head. “No one knows that more than I do. I’ll tell you this—I’m not the only one who’s jealous. Spinks is dying inside.” Henry paused for a moment. “It’s your ability I’m jealous of.”

  David frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple. When you graduated from the police academy, I’d already been moved to homicide.”

  David nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “You see things and sense things I should see and sense. You think of things I should. You remember back to the Parker crime scene?”

  David nodded.

  “Things you saw, I should’ve. I should’ve noticed the problem with him not walking up to the bodies to see if they’re dead. I should’ve seen the dried blood on his boot. David, I should’ve checked Cartwright’s job to see if he’d worked, but it never even occurred to me. I guess I’m madder at myself, than anything.”

  “Can we get through this, Henry?”

  “Of course we can. It’s more my problem than anything else.”

  “No, Bubba, you’re wrong, again,” David said.

  “What do you mean?” Henry asked, confused.

  “You’re my partner and friend. We’re a team, and a darn good one. If you have a problem, I have a problem, and the team has a problem. We’re in this together.”

  “You know, that’s why I love you,” Henry said.

  “Well, be quiet with that talk. I have a reputation to uphold.” They were laughing when Lieutenant Spinks thrust his head in the door. “Don’t you two think your prisoner may be getting overcooked in four?”

  “Yeah, I forgot about him,” David said. Henry and David burst out laughing again.

  Spinks, mumbling, shook his head and closed the door.

  ***

  Livid and handcuffed, Cartwright sat rigid in the wooden chai
r when David and Henry marched in. He commenced shouting when they parked themselves across from him. Henry and David didn’t say a word. Their silence took control of Cartwright and he shut up.

  As the silence lingered, Cartwright resumed his act, yelling about having their badges, suing them for everything they had. David figured he must have gotten his second wind. He wished someone would invent some new threats. He’d heard the badge-taking and suing threats from everyone.

  David hummed, going about putting the tape in the recorder. Henry leaned back in his chair and rolled his thumbs in circles around each other. David had switched the camera on when they entered to record everything done in the interrogation room.

  When Cartwright became quiet again, David played with the recorder hoping to get the prisoner impatient. He wanted to keep him on edge. “I have it,” David said.

  Henry nodded. He hadn’t looked at Cartwright once since they entered the room.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Cartwright demanded.

  David reached into his pocket and extracted a Miranda card. He recited the Miranda warnings in an even, unaffected voice, and asked Cartwright if he understood them.

  “Yeah.”

  “Mr. Cartwright, do you wish to have an attorney present?”

  Cartwright’s cheeks swelled. “I demand to know what’s going on.”

  “Fair enough,” David said. “Mr. Cartwright. I’m charging you with murder in Mrs. Kathleen Harris’ death.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t murder that old lady.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want an attorney?” David asked.

  “No.”

  David nodded. “Have you ever been in Mrs. Harris’ home?”

  “Of course not.”

  David made a note on the pad on the table. “Have you ever talked to her?”

  “No, I didn’t even know anyone had been killed there until you told me.”

  David nodded while writing, not looking at the prisoner. He wanted to keep the pressure on him. The dam would break. Cartwright believed he could outsmart them, and David wanted him too agitated to think straight. “Have you ever seen her?”

  “No, No, and No. How many times do I need to tell you? I didn’t go into that old woman’s bathroom and kill her.”