Close To Home_A Sam Prichard Mystery

by David Archer

  “I’m Sam Prichard,” he said, “I’m a private investigator, but Karen Parks is an old friend of mine. Right now, she’s on her way to jail because she’s being charged with murdering your father. I need to talk to you to see if maybe you can help me…”

  “He’s dead?” Melinda asked, her eyes wide. “My father is dead?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes, he is. The problem is that Karen has been accused of killing him, and she swears she didn’t do it. I was hoping maybe you can help me get a lead on who actually did.”

  The door closed, but then Sam heard the safety chain come off and it opened again. Melinda swung the door wide and stepped aside so Sam could enter, but he noticed she still held the shotgun. It was pointed at the floor, however, so he decided to take the chance and walked into the house.

  Melinda followed his gaze and then she actually blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry about this,” she said. “Please understand, I have been absolutely terrified that my father was going to find me. When you first rang the doorbell, I didn’t know who you were, and then you said you were a private investigator and I thought maybe he hired you, so that’s why I had the gun.” She set it down against the wall and gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I tend to run off at the mouth when I get excited or scared. He’s really dead? Like, really, completely dead?”

  “He is,” Sam said, “or they wouldn’t have arrested Karen on a murder charge.”

  “Come on in,” Melinda said. “Please understand, my father is the kind of monster that you see in movies, the kind that, every time you think he’s gone, he comes back. It may take me a while to actually believe he’s dead.”

  “I can understand,” Sam said. “Karen told me what you and your sister went through. I think the reason she was so determined to get him was because she felt that she let you girls down. No matter how she tried, she was never able to prove he was guilty and no one could find you and your sisters. I can promise you that if she had found you, she would have gotten you out of that situation.”

  “There was nothing she could have done, not back then. My father was—it seemed like he was always one step ahead of everybody else, he always took us and disappeared just before we would have been found. That was one of his ways of torturing us, I guess, letting us know that social workers had tried to take us away, but that he had beaten them.” She shrugged. “We just thought we must’ve done something really bad, and he was our punishment.”

  Sam took a seat on the couch, and Melinda sat down in a chair that was facing him. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” he said. “Melinda, have you had any contact with your father since he’s been back?”

  The girl shuddered. “God, no,” she said. “I know it sounds crazy, but if he walked in here right now, I’d probably just start crying and do whatever he said. I couldn’t beat him, I couldn’t escape him, I couldn’t even disobey. It was like—like you hear about rabbits, when they come face-to-face with a snake, right? How they just freeze up and can’t move? That’s me, whenever he’s around. I can’t do anything on my own, I can only do what he tells me to do.”

  “What about your sister, Samantha? Has he tried to contact her?”

  Melinda shrugged again and made a face that looked sad. “I haven’t heard from Samantha in at least three years. She used to write to me from the institution, but then she stopped, and she wouldn’t allow me to come and visit her. She wouldn’t even let our foster parents in, she didn’t want to see anyone.”

  “Sounds like you handled things better than she did.”

  Melinda wiped at one eye with a fingertip. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “I guess I just found it easier to open up about it all. When they took us to counseling, I was willing to talk and try to let it out, but Samantha wouldn’t. She kept telling the counselors they weren’t any help, or that they couldn’t understand what we’d been through, but she wasn’t willing to even try to get over it. It was like she needed the anger and the hate to help her be who she was, I guess.”

  “We all tend to respond to things differently,” Sam said. “Can you tell me what institution she’s in?”

  “The last I knew, she was in the state hospital in Boulder. They may have transferred her somewhere else, by now, I don’t know.”

  “I can find out. If he’s been in touch with her, she may know something that will help.” He handed her his business card and asked her to call if she thought of anything else, then let himself out and limped back to his car.

  He had just started the car and put it in gear when his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see that it was Carol Spencer calling. “Prichard,” he said.

  “Sam, it’s Carol. This thing is going to get ugly. I just left the jail, and I can tell you that jerk Rivers is determined to hang Karen for this killing. I don’t know what his grudge against her is about, but it’s something serious.”

  “Rivers is a mediocre detective, at best,” Sam said. “I think the only reason he solves any cases at all is that some of the uniforms feed him information. He takes credit for it, of course, so he comes off looking good on paper.”

  “That might be it,” Carol said. “On the other hand, there are a lot of other cops who think Karen is about to get shafted. One of them caught me on my way out the door and gave me a number, told me to give it to you in case you need any help proving she didn’t do it. Got a pen?”

  “Not at the moment,” Sam said. “Hang on, I’m driving, I need to find a place to pull over.”

  “No, don’t worry about it, I’ll text it to you. The officer’s name is Wilson, and he said he’s only one of many who believe Rivers is trying to railroad Karen. He might be able to help somehow.”

  “Good. How’s Karen holding up?”

  “She’s pretty angry,” Carol said. “We had a couple of minutes alone, and she said it’s awfully strange that Rivers even got the case. He’s supposed to be handling gang-related homicides, so this case should have gone to a more senior detective in the division.”

  “Yeah, she’s right. I’ll check with Captain Barnhart and see if I can find out how he got it, maybe even get him moved off it.”

  “That wouldn’t hurt my feelings at all. He’s a jackass, and that’s being nice. I’m headed back to the office. Call me if you learn anything, and I’ll do likewise.”

  “You got it,” Sam said. He disconnected and a moment later, his phone chimed to tell him of an incoming text message. He glanced and saw that it was Officer Wilson’s number, then dialed the number for the station Rivers worked out of.

  “District Two,” came the answer. “How may I direct your call?”

  “Captain Barnhart, please,” Sam said. “It’s Sam Prichard calling.”

  Sam was put on hold for a few seconds, and then Barnhart came on the line. “Sam? Holy cow, are you still running around?”

  “Of course,” Sam said with a grin. “Old cops never die, they just get a PI license and keep sticking their noses into everything.”

  “Yeah, I heard you were into that racket. What can I do for you?”

  “You heard about Karen Parks being arrested for murder this morning, right?”

  “Yeah, of course. I read the initial report on it, Sam, and it looks pretty bad.”

  “Yeah, well, the problem is that I don’t believe it. Karen has hired me to find evidence that will clear her, but Rivers is acting like it’s an open and shut case.”

  “Sam, she was found over the body, and a witness says she did it. Her gun was found hidden in the room and it’s almost certainly the murder weapon. I know you and Karen go back a ways, but Sam, we both know this job can turn bad in a split second. For whatever reason, it looks like she killed him and then tried to cover it up. If she’d called it in when it happened, there might have been a way to justify it, but hiding the gun…”

  “Or, she lost her gun in the scuffle that happened before she found Samara, just like she says, and somebody else used it to kill the bastard. According to her story,
she was on an upper floor when she heard the gunshots, hurried down and found the body. The gun was found by a bystander after the fact. Now, if she’s telling the truth, which I believe she is, then Rivers is just trying to score another feather in his cap. How did he end up on this case, anyway? He supposed to be on gang violence, isn’t he?”

  “Well, yeah,” Barnhart said, “that’s what he does normally, but I’ve got three detectives out sick. I had to grab whoever was available for this case and he happened to be up on the roster.”

  “Well, it sure seems like he’s got some kind of grudge against Karen. He’s not even willing to consider any scenario other than her guilt, and that just doesn’t make any sense to me. Karen is a decorated officer, she’d been a detective for years with a good record. What’s with the sudden witchhunt?”

  Barnhart sighed. “Sam, the problem is all the officer shootings in the last year. We’ve got to be able to show that we take violence by police officers seriously. Now, if she didn’t do it, I’m sure that’s going to come out, so she’s got nothing to worry about. I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everybody else, Sam. You’ve got to trust the system.”

  “Captain,” Sam said, “the system is only as good as the people working it. Rivers is a parasite, not a true detective. That’s why he’s still in gang division. How long has he been there now, twelve years? Any real detective would already have moved out to major crimes.”

  “Sam,” Barnhart said, a tone of irritation appearing in his voice, “Rivers is doing his job. All he’s got to do is find out who killed this man, and he will. Naturally, he’s going to focus on the prime suspect, but if evidence supports your theory that she didn’t do it, he’ll find it.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Sam said, “you can’t find what you refuse to look for. I’ve taken the case, and I’m going to stay on it. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Sam disconnected and dropped the phone into his pocket. Rivers was, in his opinion, one of the worst examples of a proper police detective. Unfortunately, he was adept enough at using the work of subordinate officers that he kept getting satisfactory performance reports. Sam personally thought that there were an awful lot of detectives in the world like Rivers.

  With no other immediate ideas, Sam decided to go home and fill Indie in on what was happening. The drive back to his house took nearly thirty minutes, and Indie met him at the door when he parked the car in the driveway.

  “How’s Karen?” she asked as he came inside.

  “Carol says she’s angry, but keeping it together.” He handed her the file he’d retrieved from Karen’s house. “I’ve been out to talk to Melinda, and she was shocked to learn that her father was dead. I had actually toyed with the idea that she might have followed Karen and done it herself, but I don’t think she has it in her.”

  “Well,” Indie said, “after you and Karen left, I started Herman working on finding anything he could about Daniel Samara, and it turns out the guy is wanted in several states. California, Nevada and Utah have warrants for him on charges of robbery, extortion and child endangerment, and he’s wanted for questioning in a murder case in New Mexico. What struck me as odd is that the only state he’s lived in that doesn’t have a warrant out for him is Colorado, even though Herman found numerous references to him connected to various investigations over the past twenty years. In every case where he was considered a suspect, it suddenly just got shoved aside. It’s almost like this guy was untouchable, for some reason.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You see that a lot with informants,” he said. “If somebody is feeding information to the police, it’s not uncommon for charges to get swept under the rug.” He shook his head. “Kind of hard to imagine somebody like Samara being a snitch, though.”

  “Is it really?” Indie asked. “Let’s face it, Sam, he’s always had some kind of advance warning when someone was coming after him, at least around here. Remember what Karen said? Every time the state tried to investigate about his kids, he would disappear just before they got there. Somebody had to be tipping them off.”

  “Good point. Melinda said the same thing, that he used to torment the girls by telling them that social workers were trying to take them away, but that he was always able to beat them.”Indie opened the file and started reading. “Did she happen to tell you how they managed to escape him?”

  “No, but Karen said the girls got caught digging in a dumpster behind a restaurant, and the owner called the state. They ended up in a foster home, and Melinda did okay but Samantha kept getting into trouble and ended up institutionalized. About three years ago, she stopped having any contact with her sister or foster parents. I need you to have Herman see if he can find out where she is, now. If Samara has been in touch with her, she may know something.”Indie kept reading, but she pulled the computer close to her. After a moment, she turned to it and started typing. “Any idea what institution she was in?”

  “Melinda said she was in the state hospital at Boulder, last she knew.”Indie kept typing for a few more seconds, then watched the screen as links began to appear. “Okay,” she said after looking at a few of them. “She’s no longer at Boulder. Looks like she was transferred about eighteen months ago to another facility in Colorado Springs, but she was released only six months later. Hang on just a second, I found her Social Security number in the records. I’m running it to see if there’s any other trace of her since then.”

  Herman, the semi-intelligent program that Indie had written to search out even the most difficult information, started displaying other links on the screen. Indie clicked one and then turned the monitor so Sam could see it.

  “Looks like she was arrested several times in the first couple months she was out, mostly for possession of pot and a couple of prostitution charges. Poor kid.”

  Sam was looking at the information displayed. “Nothing in the last ten months,” he said. “Hey, look at that. Her last two arrests were right here in Denver. Think you can find any kind of address for her?”Indie shrugged. “I’m not seeing any,” she said. “On those arrests, she listed her address as one of the missions downtown.” She looked up at Sam. “I suppose it’s possible she actually cleaned herself up and got off the streets, but you and I both know that isn’t likely. For her to disappear like this, Sam…”

  “Yeah,” Sam said, “I know. It’s more likely she ended up dead of an overdose or something worse.” He shook his head again. “Check to see if there are any Jane Does that might fit her description.”

  “Already on that,” Indie said. “None show up anywhere around here in the last year, so there’s hope.”

  “Well,” Sam said, “that’s something at least. Now, where do I go from here?”

  6

  Sam’s phone rang just then, and he snatched it out to see Carol Spencer’s number. “Prichard,” he said as he answered.

  “They’re not wasting any time,” Carol said. “They’ve already got an arraignment set for two o’clock this afternoon. Sam, they’re charging her with murder one.”

  “First degree? Why? In a case like this, they would usually go for second, try to claim she used excessive force in trying to arrest him.”

  “Yes, but Rivers says he’s got witnesses who will state that they heard her threatening to kill him. That’s all they need to make a murder one case, any evidence that speaks to premeditation.”

  Sam let out a deep sigh. “Okay,” he said. “If you get the chance to talk to her, tell her I’ll be there.”

  He disconnected and put the phone in his pocket, then turned to his wife. “Arraignment is at two o’clock this afternoon. They’re not even bothering to wait until they have a case really put together.”Indie shook her head. “They’re probably counting on Carol stalling and giving them enough time to build whatever case they want.”

  “Of course. Rivers claims he has witnesses who will say they heard her saying she was going to kill Samara. If they manage to convince a jury that it was premeditated murder,
she could get life.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It wouldn’t be a very long life, though. Even in a women’s prison, they don’t like ex-cops.”

  The two of them sat and looked at each other for a long moment, and then Indie closed the file and set it beside her computer. “It’s almost 12:30,” she said. “You want some lunch?”

  Sam nodded, and Indie busied herself with making sandwiches. Sam sat at the table and watched her, grinning at the way she waddled around the kitchen. Her due date was only two weeks away, and she had told him often over the last month that she was certainly ready for the baby to get out of her.

  Mackenzie was at school, so it was just the two of them. Indie set a plate with two roast beef sandwiches at each of their places, then got them each a soft drink from the refrigerator. As she eased herself down into the chair, her own phone rang. The ring tone told her that it was her mother calling, and her eyes flicked to Sam.

  “Hello, Mom,” she said as she answered the phone.

  “Hey, honey. Um, I hope this isn’t a bad time to call, but is Sam around?”Indie rolled her eyes at Sam. “Yeah, he’s right here,” she said. “Why?”

  “Well,” her mother said, “it’s—okay, it’s Beauregard. He wants me to give Sam a message again.”Indie’s mother, Kim, had for years believed she was haunted by the ghost of a Civil War soldier named Beauregard who had the annoying habit of making obscure predictions about the future which often turned out to be correct. On several occasions, his cryptic comments had helped Sam figure out how to solve a case, and had even saved his life more than once.

  Recently, however, it turned out that Beauregard was actually an ancestor of Kim’s, one that she had heard stories of many times when she was a very small girl. The general consensus of belief since then was that it was Kim who was capable of seeing the future, but that she hid that fact from herself by creating Beauregard as a separate personality. Sam had expected Beauregard to disappear once the truth came out, but the confounded old soldier seemed determined to stick around and keep interjecting himself into Sam’s cases.