Blood Contest

by P. K. Abbot

  “There’s no need to make this another one of your issues, Mueller. This case has the potential to make or break your career, Mueller. You have the ability to profit from it if you don’t screw up again.

  “Regardless,” Burton went on, “this case will have rewards or consequences for everyone involved. For now, Mueller, just be sure that you are at the murder scene within the hour...unless you want to face your consequences today.”

  Burton could sense Pete’s anger in the tense silence on the line.

  “Listen, Mueller”, Burton continued. “The victim was a young father, murdered in front of his home in Princeton.”

  Pete could not contain his anger now.

  “Surely the CSU should be able to work this case without its most junior detective,” he said, “...even if it is a society crime.”

  Pete knew that he should not have said that last phrase, but it was too late. His anger had already won.

  “This is no society crime, Mueller. The murder occurred in the presence of the victim’s two young daughters. It is a heinous crime and a major case because of its brutality...and because of its victim.”

  “Who is this victim, Lieutenant? Why is he so important?”

  “The murdered man is Trey Jamieson… the Governor’s son.”

  Chapter 3

  Annie had been furious with Pete for sharing the intimate details of their life with Ryan, and the news of their canceled vacation only added to her anger.

  After a few minutes, however, she stopped fuming, and the practical side of her personality took over. She decided to spend the afternoon cancelling their reservations and trying to get as much of their deposit money refunded to them as possible.

  Annie had calmed down enough to offer Pete a small reprieve before he left the condo for the murder scene. She told him that she would wait to eat supper with him if he could be home before midnight. She realized that he had not intended to be mean or hurtful to her. It was just his innate male obtuseness that had hurt her feelings.

  Mueller’s anger toward Burton had not yet cooled, but he realized why Burton thought that this case was so crucial. Trey Jamieson’s father – Governor John Hart Jamieson II or “Jamie” Jamison – has been a very successful Republican politician in a very blue state for many years. For that reason alone, the national media would swarm around the story of Trey’s murder.

  This year the media had even more interest in Jamie Jamieson. The Governor had entered a very strong bid to become the Republican Party’s standard bearer – and perhaps the next President of the United States. If Mueller should mishandle this investigation, Mueller knew that the media would make him feel as if he had fallen into a hornets’ nest. This case would either make or break his career. Burton was right about that.

  Mueller arrived at the murder scene at 4:18 PM. The sun had just set, and the wind was picking up. The crisp, clear weather of the afternoon had turned raw and punishing.

  When he stepped out of his car, he could see that the major television channels from both New York and Philadelphia were already present. Satellite trucks were lined up along the street. Night was already coming on, but the street was lit more brightly than at midday. Each reporter stood in his circle of light, holding his microphone, and broadcasting to his viewers. Each knew that something important had happened here but did not yet know exactly what that was. Still each was determined to be the first to relay this total lack of information to his network’s viewers.

  Mueller noticed a Porsche Carrera parked next to the satellite truck closest to him. It was an unusual choice to bring out a car with so much power and torque on a night when the temperature was forecast to plummet and to turn the surface of the streets to ice. The Porsche had obviously brought one of the network’s on-air personalities to the crime scene.

  At that moment, the door of the satellite truck flew open with a bang. A strikingly handsome man with jet black hair burst through the door and jogged briskly toward the circle of light in front of the truck. A coatless woman was running after him and pulling at the makeup bib around his neck. When he got into the light, in front of the camera, he started berating someone in the production crew. A male producer rushed up to him and set down before him a 2’ x 2’ platform that was about six inches high. Without acknowledging the producer, he stepped onto the platform and nodded to the camera operator.

  In the bright light in front of the camera, the man’s blue eyes were piercing and unmistakable. Mueller recognized the man as Wilson “Will” Cooper, the main news anchor for one of the television networks.

  Will Cooper was wearing an elegant camel hair topcoat and Burberry scarf. He held his microphone in his gloved hand as he spoke, looking into the camera with his earnest blue eyes, smiling, and connecting with his broadcast audience.

  The camera angle must have widened, because Cooper now turned to a man who was standing next to him – a local resident wearing a parka. Standing on the platform, which was outside the frame of the shot, Cooper appeared to be an inch or two taller than the man whom he was about to interview. Cooper was leaning into the man with his microphone, smiling at him, and asking him questions. The man made a few brief answers to Cooper’s questions, made a few gestures, but mostly he shrugged his shoulders or shook his head from side to side. After a few minutes, Cooper spoke directly into the camera again, smiled, and nodded, ending his broadcast.

  As soon as the camera lights were cut, Cooper abruptly turned away from the man who was still speaking to him. He tossed his microphone to his producer and got into the Carrera.

  Cooper started the Carrera, and, without waiting for the engine to warm up, he put the car into gear. As he pushed on the accelerator, the car jumped away from the curb and fishtailed down the icy street.

  It wasn’t that Cooper had the skill to drive the car under such adverse conditions. He simply had the money and arrogance not to care.

  Mueller now started walking toward the crime scene but was immediately assaulted with questions from the reporters standing near him.

  “Sergeant, what can you tell us about what happened here this afternoon?”

  “Can you confirm that an attempt was made to abduct Governor Jamieson’s granddaughters?”

  “There is a rumor that one of the girls has been harmed. Can you confirm this for us?”

  Mueller looked straight ahead. He walked briskly toward the crime scene tape and ducked under it.

  Inside the perimeter, the NJSP forensic team had set up their light towers and flooded the murder scene with light. Clad in white coveralls, the forensic technicians were busy measuring distances and angles and collecting whatever evidence they could uncover. A large yellow tarp was draped over a snow bank on the left side of the street. Mueller knew that it was covering the body of Trey Jamieson, shielding it from view, and protecting it from the contamination of the elements.

  Mueller quickly located Burton in the crowd.

  Lieutenant Frank Burton Sr. was a 48-year old black man. He was just under six feet in height, lean and wiry in build. He stood rigidly, always ramrod straight. His eyes were very dark, very intense. His gaze was more accurately described as a frigid stare. Frank Burton gave the impression of being an intimidating, serious man.

  “Lieutenant Burton.”

  “Mueller,” he replied. “Even though you are the last detective to arrive at the crime scene, you have arrived, Mueller. So, congratulations on saving your job — this time.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I hope that I need not remind you how important this case is,” Burton began. “First of all, it is a heinous crime in its own right. A killer murders a young man...in the presence of his two very young daughters...on a quiet street of an affluent suburb...and on Christmas Day. These facts by themselves would turn this case into a sensational story. The media will be all over this case.”

  “Add to that the fact,” Burton continued, “that the murdered man was also the only son of the Governor of the State. This will b
ring an immense amount of political pressure from our superiors...from the Attorney General...and from the Governor’s office itself to solve this case – to solve this case correctly, to solve this case quickly.”

  Burton stared intently at Mueller and went on, “Any one slip up, any one missed opportunity will be magnified and publicized throughout the nation. If your performance causes this department to look bad — causes me to look bad, Mueller — I will personally see that you are back on patrol in no time flat. Do you understand me, Mueller?”

  Burton was actually smaller than Mueller, but he was standing within inches of Mueller’s face and staring into Mueller’s eyes with his own intense dark eyes.

  “Do you understand me, Mueller?” Burton repeated.

  “I do, Sir.”

  Burton looked down at his watch and said, “I thought you would make me miss my own Christmas dinner, Mueller, but, now that you are here, I can still make the dinner. It is an engagement that I really should not cancel.”

  Mueller just stared at Burton and shook his head in disgust.

  Burton continued, choosing not to notice Mueller’s reaction.

  “It is unlikely that you will see Governor Jamieson tonight, Mueller, since he was campaigning in New Hampshire this morning. Should he arrive, however, be sure that either you or Sergeant Ryan calls me on my cell immediately. Is that clear, Mueller?”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  “One more thing – the evidence of our investigation must be kept strictly confidential, not shared with anyone, not even with the Governor’s office, not even with the Governor himself. Is that understood?”

  “Of course, Sir”

  “While I am gone, I am placing Sergeant Ryan in command of the crime scene. You will need to see him to receive your assignment.”

  “I will, Sir.”

  “You are dismissed, Mueller.”

  Mueller went off to find Ryan. Within a minute, Mueller saw him standing farther down the street. Ryan was easy to find. He stood out on the street. He was strikingly handsome in his French blue uniform jacket. Copperish blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, a powerful build and a dazzling smile.

  Mueller looked at Ryan and thought to himself, “Annie was right. If she had met Ryan in his uniform before meeting me, she might have chosen him over me. — Hell, I probably would have chosen him over me.”

  “Sergeant Ryan,” Mueller called out.

  Ryan waved, looked at Mueller, and greeted him.

  “I am sorry that you lost your leave over this case, Pete.”

  “Thanks, Billy. It would have been a very special trip for Annie and me — our first extended trip together in a very beautiful setting.”

  “I had hoped that this year you would be away on the 30th — on the anniversary.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “When that day rolls around, Pete, I notice that it really eats away at you.”

  “I try to avoid it, Billy, but I can’t get away from it. I think about it almost every day, but on that day I can’t stop thinking about it for even a minute. You never forget killing someone.”

  “Even though it was the Army’s fault, I can see how that incident would haunt somebody – especially somebody like you, Pete.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Burton did not really need to cancel your leave, you know. I think he wanted to do the politically safe thing for himself. He wanted to cover himself in case the brass or the media should start criticizing the handling of the case. How is Annie taking all of this? Is she angry about it?”

  “Of course she’s angry. She was furious for a while, but she has decided to spend the afternoon canceling reservations and trying to recoup our down payments. Burton called me only about an hour ago. I think he enjoyed doing it that way too. Do you know that he threatened to boot me out of the CSU twice this afternoon?”

  “I’m not really surprised, Pete. He has had it in for both of us since the Academy. I have had the advantage of a three-year head start on you in the state police, and I have been able to establish myself in that time. Your problem is that you are still new in the CSU. I may be out of reach by now, but to Burton you are still the low hanging fruit. You have to watch yourself with him, Pete.”

  “I know, but I just despise the guy.”

  “That’s the problem, Pete. If something is not perfect, you don’t let it go. You get angry. You brood about it, and, more importantly, you show your feelings for everyone to see.”

  “That’s the way I am.”

  “You have to learn to gloss things over for your own good. You have not been here long enough to stand up to Burton. Burton is the commanding officer of the CSU. If it comes to conflict between you and Burton, you will lose that fight. Right now if he decides that you are out, I won’t be able to help you — not even Mike will be able to save you. You have to find a way to co-exist with Burton. There is no other way for you, Pete.”

  Mueller was staring at the ground. He seemed perturbed by their conversation. “You’re right, I guess,” Mueller said. Then abruptly he changed the subject. “So, what do we have here?” he asked, pointing to Ryan’s notes.

  “Yeah, let me bring you up-to-date,” Ryan said. “The victim is a 30-year-old male, John Hart Jamieson III, Governor Jamieson’s son, Trey. No formal identification yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Burton did not want to force Mrs. Jamieson to make the formal identification right now. She and her children are obviously traumatized. One of our female staff psychologists is counseling them now. We will probably ask her to identify her husband’s body after our interviews.”

  “I understand.”

  Ryan continued the briefing.

  “The victim was walking with his two daughters and the girls’ new puppy. They were walking east toward the house on the corner, where a friend of one of the girls lived. Apparently the girls and the dog had run some distance ahead of the victim. The girls said that a woman had walked past them, heading in the opposite direction. Within a few seconds, the dog started crying. That caused the girls to look behind them toward their father. They saw their father lying in the snow. He had a fatal gunshot wound to the head. Neither one of the girls had heard the gunshot.”

  While Ryan had been talking, he and Mueller had walked over to the body. Ryan now pulled back the tarp from its corner so that they could view Trey Jamieson’s entire corpse where it had fallen.

  Trey Jamieson was very well-dressed, but casually, as you might expect a man of his position to be on a holiday at home with his family.

  Trey lay on his back where he had fallen onto the snow bank. His head was a little lower than his feet, and the snow below his head was saturated with his blood. His right arm was bent at a 45° angle, and his hand was partially open — as though it had been holding something. When Mueller bent more closely to examine Trey’s hand, Ryan remarked, “He had apparently been talking on his cell phone when he was shot. Forensics has taken the cell phone and tagged it as evidence. They will check the sim card and the phone company records back at the lab.”

  Trey’s brown hair was still neatly combed as he lay on the snow bank. His lips were parted slightly as if he were in the middle of a word, speaking casually to a friend, and his green eyes were staring at the blue sky overhead.

  “He doesn’t seem at all terrified, does he?” Mueller asked. “He may seem just a little surprised. Other than that, he seems to be unaware of what was about to happen to him.”

  “That is surprising because preliminary gunshot residue analysis indicates that the killer was at close range when he or she fired the shot.”

  “Here is another surprising thing,” Ryan continued. “Notice that the bullet followed a fairly flat trajectory and entered the victim’s skull at an approximate 45° angle left of the victim’s front center. The victim never turned to face his assailant. The victim was looking somewhere else and apparently was not aware that the assailant was about to kill him. The assailant was standing very close to
the victim but apparently caught him completely by surprise when he or she fired the fatal shot.”

  “That seems to indicate a professional hit,” Mueller said.

  “Yes, it does, and here are two other things to consider: the shooter likely used a silencer since no one in the neighborhood heard a gunshot; the shooter worked in conjunction with at least one other perpetrator. Trey’s daughters reported that the suspected shooter exited a car in front of them and then entered the same car behind them after Trey had been shot.”

  “Let’s examine the victim a little more closely,” Ryan said. “At this stage, cause of death appears to be a single gunshot wound to the head. This shooter was very professional and needed only one shot. It was perfectly placed, delivered silently, and apparently with total surprise.”

  “So it was a textbook professional hit?”

  “Not exactly. The shooter did not use a quiet little .22 caliber revolver to deliver the shot at close range. The shooter used a high velocity round.”

  “How do you know that already?”

  “Well, we know it for two reasons. First, if you notice, Pete, the bullet entered here, just past the left temple, approximately 45° from the front center of his forehead.” Ryan now turned Trey’s head 180° and continued speaking. “And it exited Trey’s head on a fairly flat trajectory back here. The exit wound is still fairly small. It is not what you would expect from a low velocity round, one that might turn or tumble before exiting the head.”

  “And what is the second reason?”

  “We found a casing. The casing is clearly stamped FN 5.7x28mm – a high velocity round manufactured originally for military use.”

  “A casing? Why didn’t the killer take it with him? Did you find it under the corpse?”

  “No, the casing was resting in the middle of the sidewalk here, in plain view. Considering what we know about the murder so far, I think that the killer wanted to make a statement with Trey’s murder. In Trey’s situation, we cannot ignore the possibility that this was a revenge killing. Trey worked for a large investment bank where fortunes have been made and also lost over the past 10 years. And Trey’s father is a powerful politician, a presidential contender, with more than his share of enemies – past and potential, domestic and foreign. We will have our hands full in trying to isolate a motive for this murder, Pete.”