by John Foxjohn
Skipping lunch, they spent three tedious hours at the phone company, finding out even less there than they had at the bank.
They sat slumped in the unmarked police unit outside the telephone company, both tired from all the hours poring over useless records.
“Well, partner,” Henry said, “we’re chasing our tails again.”
David didn’t respond for several minutes, rubbing his tired eyes. “We’ve done nothing but chase our tails on this one.”
“Yeah, we’re missing something. There’s no such thing as a perfect homicide.”
“I know what you mean. Inspector Patterson told me once people don’t commit perfect homicides, detectives don’t conduct perfect investigations.”
“So what’re we doing, David? We’re going through all the proper procedures. We haven’t skipped anything.”
“Maybe that’s the problem, Henry.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re investigating this case like we do all of them.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I think the killer’s working on a different procedure, Henry.”
“What procedure do you think he’s working on?”
“If I knew that we’d be making an arrest right now.”
“You still think this is tied into the sniper shooting, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Longer it goes, the more I believe it.”
“You’re starting to convince me, too. It’s too big of a coincidence.”
“Yeah.”
“With that established, where do we go?” Henry asked.
“Henry,” David paused for a long moment to see the best way to say what he was about to, “I keep thinking about the shell casing at the scene.”
“I don’t understand how that has anything to do with this.”
“Think back. Honest, tell me why a sniper cleaned the room and left a spent shell casing?”
“I think you hit it on the head. I believe he left it on purpose to lead the investigators in the wrong direction.”
“Leaving the shell casing on purpose didn’t make any sense, did it?”
“No.”
“Let’s assume the sniper and the one who killed Ronny are the same person,” David said.
“Okay, so?”
“Is there anything about Ronny’s murder that doesn’t make sense, like the shell casing?”
“Yeah—taking the pen and spiral notebook don’t make sense.”
“What’s your opinion on why the killer took the pen and spiral notebook?”
“I think you’re right. I think he knew Ronny wrote something down that would incriminate him.”
“That’s what I thought at first, too.”
“You don’t anymore?”
“We’re doing the same thing Mills and Combs are doing. I think the killer took the pen and notebook to lead us on a wrong trail.”
***
David and Henry sat slumped in the dark car with Henry biting on a nail. “If you’re right, do you know what this means?”
“Yeah. We either have a professional killer targeting police officers, or we’ve one smart hombre who wants to kill certain police officers.”
David and Henry drove back to the police department and lumbered into the homicide room. It was after seven. Checking his messages, David glanced up when Lieutenant Spinks paraded in.
“Where have you and Henry been all day? Did you two take the day off?”
David leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with both hands. “No sir, we’ve been chasing our tails.”
“What’re you talking about, Mason?”
David sighed and rubbed his neck. “Sir, it’s an analogy I use to mean we’ve been going in circles and not getting anywhere.”
“So you haven’t found anything?”
“Nothing we can use in courtroom.”
“Sergeant, I’m not in the mood for guessing games at this point. Do you have any solid evidence or not?”
David rubbed his face with both hands. He wasn’t in the mood for Spinks’ stuff. He let out a deep breath. “Lieutenant, we have no solid evidence. Guesses is all.”
Spinks put his hands on his hips. “What I figured. I tried to get Inspector Patterson not to assign you this case. You don’t have enough experience to take on a case of this magnitude.”
David leaped to his feet. His eyes narrowed to slits, and his mouth became a thin, hard line. He put both palms flat on the uncluttered desk and leaned forward. “I suppose you wanted Patterson to assign you, huh?”
“Yes, I did. I’ve been on this police department a lot longer than you have.”
“How many homicide arrests have you made, Lieutenant?”
“That’s not germane, Sergeant. I’ve ten years’ experience on you.”
Face reddening, David looked at the floor, clenched his teeth and let out a forceful breath. “You have ten years’ experience on me in this police department, shuffling papers. I happen to know you came to homicide as a lieutenant and had never been here before. You haven’t made a homicide arrest, you haven’t ever, and I mean ever, investigated a homicide on your own. I doubt if you’ve ever investigated any crime. I’ve put up with all the crap I’m going to take from you. If you don’t get your butt out of my office now, I’m kicking it out.”
Spinks stepped back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a cork on a fishing line. He took in a quick breath.
“I think you’d better leave, Lieutenant,” Henry said.
Henry’s presence in the door and his voice startled David and Spinks.
Spink’s face boiled. “You haven’t heard the last of this, Sergeant.”
David stepped around his desk with his fists balled. “Why don’t you keep talking? I have my ears wide open.”
Spinks whirled and stormed out.
David kicked his wire mesh trashcan across the room, and it hit the wall and bounced out the door, spilling papers everywhere, almost hitting Henry.
Henry blew out his breath. “Feel better now?”
“No. If that was Spinks I’d feel better.”
“But it wasn’t. Just a trash can.”
“How long have you been there?”
“I walked up right after the lieutenant did. He’s eaten up with jealousy.”
David sat in his seat, leaning his head back, eyes closed, wondering why the goofy lieutenant tried to push his buttons, and why he let him. He took a deep breath. “That’s his problem.”
“Yeah, it is. I talked to Meyers a few minutes ago. He told me he’d overheard Patterson tell Spinks this morning, if he messed up one more time, he was out of here.”
“Hmm, wouldn’t that be nice.”
Chapter 28
When David left the office, he glanced in the rearview mirror to see if anyone followed him, and rechecked about every two minutes. He wasn’t paranoid, but whoever shot him had to have followed him. If it were Carlin, he’d make another attempt.
He pulled into an empty lot across the street from Carlin’s apartment and backed his car into a tree-lined drive where he knew he wouldn’t be visible. He could see Carlin’s parked car and his front door. David had sat outside Carlin’s apartment watching on two other occasions. Carlin had motive, but that was only important on TV. He couldn’t go out and arrest everyone who had a motive to kill a police officer. His biggest challenge was placing Carlin at the crime scene, and he couldn’t do it.
He’d placed Cartwright at the scene with the fingerprint. With the bloody footprint, he’d proved Parker had killed his parents; the gun alone wouldn’t have put him at the scene. The only evidence they had from the sniper was a spent shell casing, to which thousands of people in this city had access.
Andrew Carlin had been off, and as far as David knew, he had no alibi, but again, half the city wouldn’t have an alibi.
Patterson always said, “Look at people with alibis, not the ones who don’t have one.” The inspector thought people who planned a crime wo
uld also planned an alibi.
David observed Carlin’s apartment for a few hours and left because nothing happened. It never did. Carlin had never left his apartment while David watched, and no one had ever come to see him.
He arrived home about ten thirty, took a shower, and had finished brushing his teeth when the phone rang. He thought about not answering it and let it ring several times. He’d been getting crank and threatening calls, and they were from cops.
When he picked up the phone, Henry’s excited yelled, “David, this is Henry. We need to get to the station.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I haven’t a clue. Spinks called me a few minutes ago and told me Chief Pores wants us in his office right now. He didn’t tell me what it’s about or anything. It must be an emergency. He told me to run hot. They’ve been hunting high and low for you. They called me when they couldn’t get in touch with you.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
David hung up, jumped back into the clothes he’d taken off, and sprinted for his car. He didn’t know what the problem was, but an inner dread told him he’d better hurry. David arrived at the station about four minutes after Henry called.
When he pulled into downtown headquarters parking lot, the front swarmed with police officers, lights flashing, sirens wailing. He jumped out, wondering what had happened.
Henry swerved into the police parking lot and they jogged to the front entrance.
“Are you the two detectives we’ve been waiting for?” a uniformed officer yelled when they flashed their badges.
“Yes,” they both barked.
“Chief instructed me to wait here for you. I’m to escort you back to his office.”
“What’s going on?” Henry asked.
“Sir I’m not at liberty to say. Chief told me to get you to his office immediately. Let’s go.”
Excited officers swarmed the building like hornets in a broken open nest, as David and Henry rushed down the carpeted hallway on the first floor. Bypassing the elevator, they took the stairs two at a time, and the patrolman escorting them trailed well behind.
Spinks sat opposite the chief’s chair as if at attention. Chief Pores stood looking out the window with his back to them.
“Sir, here’s the two detectives. I brought them right in as you told me,” the huffing officer said.
Pores turned, “Thank you, Kernes. Now please shut the door.”
Chief Pores looked tired and worn out, his clothes rumpled and his flattop uncombed. “Do you know what’s going on here?”
“No sir,” Henry said.
Cats jumped around inside David’s stomach. Something bad happened.
Pores paused for a long moment. “Someone shot Inspector Patterson as he left the building. That’s all we know now. He walked down the steps and was hit.”
David sat in shock. A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He shivered, but the cold turned to boiling rage. He wanted to smash something, destroy.
Henry regained his composure. “Sir, is he alive?”
“Yes, at the moment, but he’s in bad shape. They’re not sure if he’ll pull through or not. I’m going to the hospital as soon as I leave here.”
David wanted to scream this couldn’t be happening. He must have fallen asleep. He was having another nightmare. God, please let this be a nightmare.
Pores’ voice yanked him back. “I need you two to get out there and find out what’s going on. Be back here in my office in two hours.” His voice boomed. He slammed his palm on his desk, making all three officers jump. “I want you to explain to me what is happening in my city.”
David and Henry jumped to their feet and strode out the door, Spinks followed way behind.
“Thank goodness you two are here,” Joe Hughes said when they were outside. He had blood all over his clothes, and his hands shook.
“What happened?” David demanded.
“I don’t know. I met the inspector in the hallway. He was leaving as I came in. We talked for a minute and I turned to leave. I was almost to the elevator when I heard the shot. I turned and ran out. Inspector Patterson lay on the steps, blood gushing from his chest.”
“How bad is it?” Henry asked.
“It’s bad. I tried to stop the bleeding and did what I could, but I don’t know much about treating wounds.”
“How many shots did you hear?” David asked.
“One shot. I’m sure.”
“Did you see where it came from?” Henry asked.
“No. I had my back to the front door.”
“What’d you and the inspector talk about?” David asked.
“General chit-chat. I ragged him about how being an inspector gave him banking hours. It was a joke about him being there so late.”
“Why were you coming in at this hour?” Henry asked.
“Came from a crime scene. Had to lock up evidence.”
“What time was he shot?” David asked.
Joe thought a moment. “It had to be about ten fifteen.”
“Is that the exact time?” David snapped.
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t look at my watch, but it’s close. Is the time important?”
“Yeah, it’s important. As close as you can get, Joe.”
“Ten-fifteen is as close as I can get, David. I could be three or four minutes off either way.”
He nodded. It was close enough. Andrew Carlin was not the shooter.
As the area cleared out, David and Henry trudged to where the inspector fell. Blood covered several steps, and a young officer stood hypnotized, mouth hanging open.
“Who’s he?” David asked Joe, who had followed them.
“He got off the elevator when the inspector was shot. He ran out with me,” Joe said.
“Come here,” David commanded.
He shuffled over to them.
“Lie down on the steps.”
“Wha—wha—what?”
“Lie down on the steps by the blood. Joe, position him the exact way the inspector lay when you rushed out.”
He hesitated, but lay down on the concrete steps with a confused expression.
“David, we got pictures with Patterson’s body position,” Joe said.
“Position him.”
Joe arranged the officer on his right side with his legs drawn up and facing down the steps. Joe rolled his left arm over. When he was through, he stood.
“This is the best I can do. I’d have to see the pictures to know for sure.”
Henry told the officer to remain still. David and Henry stood, looking all around.
“Shot had to come from the park,” Henry said.
“Yep, let’s get a flashlight and look.”
They both jogged to their vehicles and retrieved their flashlights. David searched the park benches when Henry called him. At the base of the Sam Houston statue, Henry’s light shined on the short grass, reflecting off a shell casing.
Kneeling, David picked it up by inserting a pen into the hollow shell. It was a Remington .270 center fire.
Henry, looking over his shoulder, said, “One thing we do know. You were right. All these shootings are connected.”
David didn’t say anything. He’d already known this.
Joe dragged up while David knelt down. “What’d you find?”
“Shell casing,” Henry said. “This is where the shooter fired from.”
“Joe,” David said, “I want you to see if there are any prints on this casing. I want this area roped off, and a team searching.”
“Sure, David. Get it bagged. I’ll round people up. I’ll grab a few uniforms to rope and protect until we can get in here.”
“Call me at my office as soon as you know anything.”
“I almost forgot. Spinks came back a few minutes ago. He told me to tell you and Henry with Inspector Patterson down, he’s in charge, and he wants you in his office.”
“Thanks Joe,” David said. “Do you have any more good news f
or us?”
“Good luck,” he said and trudged away.
David and Henry ambled to their office, not worried about finding Spinks, but he found them.
“It’s about time you two showed up. I want to know everything you’ve found.”
David let Henry fill him in on what they had. He was a short stone’s throw from punching out Spinks.
“Get to work. Meet me in the chief’s office at twelve forty-five.” Spinks strutted from the office.
David paced for several minutes. They’d just lost their suspect. It couldn’t be Carlin. He was watching him. Three or four minutes in either direction didn’t make any difference. It was a good half hour’s drive from Carlin’s apartment to police headquarters.
“Where do we start?” Henry asked.
David sat, leaning his head back, massaging his temples. “I want to talk to the inspector’s secretary first thing,” David said. “I also want his phone records, and I want to know what he worked on. Would you go ahead and get his secretary in here?”
“Now, at this time?”
“Now, Henry.”
“Do you want me to tell her what’s going on?”
“Nope, I want to see her reaction.”
Susan Case stormed in forty-five minutes later with makeup half on, her hair a mess, and madder than a soaked panther.
She was an attractive woman, even looking like this, and she’d been homicide chief’s secretary for four years.
Henry pulled up a chair and sat beside David’s desk, also facing her.
“Susan, do you know why you were called in here?” David asked.
Her big brown eyes looked straight at him. “No, I don’t. Does Inspector Patterson know?”
David ignored the question for a long moment. He’d wanted to see her reaction.
“Sergeant Mason, I’d like to know why I’ve been called in here like this. This has never happened before.”
“May I call you Susan?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Susan, Inspector Patterson was shot tonight.”
She emitted a strangled cry, and her hands flew to her face. If she was acting, she did a darn good job.
“Are his wife and kids alright?” she asked in a strained voice with tears streaming down her cheeks.