“No, Cy, I’d say you wouldn’t be acting as a police officer ever again. Now, what’s that smell, Cy?”
“The old man smells, too.”
“I’m talking about breakfast. You do still like to eat breakfast, don’t you, Cy?”
“Of course, Lou. I guess it’s that I’m nervous about today. Plus, I had two, not one, but two nightmares about my next-door neighbor last night. That’s enough to drive anyone crazy.”
+++
Lightning had never smelled so good. The smell of bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, biscuits, and gravy wafted from the back seat and stirred the air around us. Just like the night before, I was tempted to dash for home and serve a humongous breakfast for two. I envisioned the rat from next door gnawing on my ankle and food flying everywhere.
Lou and I arrived at the station five minutes before the first of our witnesses. We’d decided the night before that we’d whisk the witnesses in before we deposited any of the suspects. All of our witnesses arrived within a couple of minutes of each other, so each got a brief look at the others. None were told that those other guys were witnesses too. We didn’t want talking among the witnesses, so we placed them in adjacent rooms, rather than put them together. The younger two seemed terrified to be there. And they were the witnesses. Lou or I asked each of them what he wanted to eat or drink, got it for them, and left them alone with their breakfasts. We told them we’d return after breakfast with details about the proceedings. We brought out our finest dinnerware and glassware for the occasion.
All of our suspects made it in unscathed. None tried to escape on the way to the station. We didn’t care if suspects talked to other suspects, but we did separate them into groups of Colonel friendly and Colonel hostile, based on what we knew about them. We didn’t want someone to recognize someone else and murder them on the spot.
I breathed a sigh of relief after each person had received his or her food. There was enough left for Lou and me to enjoy as much as we usually did. Unbeknownst to us, there was a box with our names on it. I opened it and smiled. There were four pieces of pecan pie for the two of us, with a note that said, “Sorry, but I couldn’t figure out a way to add the ice cream.” If I ever get married again, Rosie’s the woman for me.
In a matter of minutes, George joined us, and there was still enough food for all of us. We refrained from bringing out the pie until after George excused himself to take care of some police business. While he was there, we went over the agenda for the morning.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I entered the first of the rooms that housed our witnesses just as a young woman was removing the tray and dishes.
“So, how was breakfast, Mr. Downey?”
“Better than anything I could fix myself, and I’d put it on par with those truck stops I frequented. But could you leave the glass and bring me some water?”
“No problem. We’ll bring you a clean glass and a pitcher of water.”
“Now, Mr. Downey, let me fill you in on what we’re going to be doing here today. We have several people who will be taking part in a lineup. We’ll take you into a room with a glass window that will allow you to see them, but they cannot see you. One at a time, we’ll ask them to step forward and stand until we ask them to step back. I want you to concentrate on each suspect to see if he could be the person we’re looking for. All of these people will look something alike, so look carefully. You will have a piece of paper that will allow you to jot down any notes you want to take, because we don’t want you to identify anyone or eliminate anyone until you’ve seen all the suspects. Because there are so many of them, we’ll have more than one lineup. Any questions?”
“No, it sounds straightforward.”
“Okay, each of the witnesses will go in one at a time, so you will return to this room after each set of people. I don’t know how long all of this will take. We are still rounding up people for the later lineup. We’ll let you know when we’re through. And thanks again for your willingness to help.”
“I don’t think I had any choice.”
“Well, we still appreciate your help.”
+++
I stepped out into the hallway. An officer informed me that Lou had just left one of the witness rooms and entered the other. I waited for him to return.
A couple of minutes later, Lou returned and we compared notes. Only Dick Morrissey, the seasoned veteran with the best look at the long-haired man, seemed to be at ease with what was going to take place.
+++
Lou and I walked down a corridor to where the suspects were waiting. I took one room. Lou walked into the other. We decided to let the family and close friends of the Colonel be in the first lineup. That meant that we’d leave Belding in lockup a little longer.
I walked in, looked at Martha, and addressed the group.
“Good morning, everyone. I hope all of you had a good breakfast. I stopped in to let you know what we’re doing here today. We believe that the person the witnesses saw enter your house was the same person we captured on film. This person had long-hair and a beard. Since no one we know resembles this person, we believe that whoever it was wore a disguise. We’ve had a team of experts design a disguise that closely resembles that of the perpetrator. We want each of you to don a disguise, walk out to your assigned number, and take your place. When your number is called, you’re to step forward and remain there until you’re asked to step back. Any questions?”
“What if someone thinks the beard and long hair make me look like the murderer?” Scott asked.
“I don’t see that happening unless you’re the murderer, and you’re not at the top of our list. When it’s over, I think you’ll feel much better than you do now.”
“But how reliable are these witnesses?”
“Well, one of them told me he could definitely identify the man if he saw him. From talking to him, I’d say he can. At least, we’ll know what he thinks after he has seen everyone we’ve brought in. And we have two other witnesses besides. Since all three will not see people at the same time and feed off each other, it would seem awfully convincing if all three identified the same person.”
When I received no protests or other questions, I left them to themselves.
+++
Nervously, Lou and I stood in the hall waiting for our signal to summon the first witness. We arranged a schedule of from youngest to oldest, so Mark Blakeman would be first. In a manner of minutes that seemed like hours, George came and gave us the signal. I waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, and then opened the door to give Blakeman his cue.
Lou and I accompanied Blakeman to his observation post. He tensed as, one by one, six persons, who looked remarkably alike in long hair and beards, shuffled in and went to his or her spot.
The sergeant in charge had done enough lineups to know that things go better if the witness is given a few moments to study all the suspects before parading them forward one at a time. Lou and I studied them, too. We knew who the six were. I wanted to see if I could identify all of them in their getups. I guessed, but I wasn’t sure. I wondered if the lineup was a good idea after all.
A minute or so later, Sgt. Watkins spoke, and number one stepped forward and held his or her station. I looked again. My guess is that it was Trish, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that number one was a female. How were any of our witnesses going to identify someone he saw only briefly?
A few minutes later, the suspects were instructed to leave, and Blakeman turned around. As he turned, he appeared to be about ready to say something. I stopped him before he could, and told him that any comments about any of the suspects would have to wait. He acquiesced.
The suspects didn’t actually leave, but since we wanted all our witnesses to have the suspects make the same dramatic entrance, we had them step out of the room.
Downey went second, and again things went off without a hitch. Well, I guess they did. All I knew was that I needed to sneak a bite of candy before informing Dick Morri
ssey that it was his fifteen minutes of fame.
+++
Each of the people we brought in was fingerprinted before taking part in the lineup. While Lou and I were busy handling the lineup, George headed off to see what results the fingerprints would give us. He returned with a smile on his face, just as we closed Morrissey’s door after the second lineup. I knew from the smile on George’s face, we had a match.
“So, George, my good friend, what do you have for us?”
“We have prints that match those we found in the house.”
“I expected we might. And we have a positive ID from one of our witnesses. I wasn’t sure we’d get that.”
Lou, George, and I compared notes and found out that George’s fingerprints and our witness identified the same person. All we had left to do was gather enough evidence to force our murderer into a confession.
“As you two know, the person who murdered the Colonel looked nothing like the long-haired man in the picture. Since we don’t have the disguise actually worn by the murderer, I’d say that that evidence is hidden in a safe spot. George, I assume that Judge Heller is available to sign a search warrant for you.”
“Right down the hall as a matter of fact.”
“Then get a team over there and find something to help us nail our murderer.”
I had no idea what evidence we would find, but I had an idea where we could find it. I instructed George and sent him on his way. Lou and I didn’t want to give anything away, so we prepared a message for each group. We told the suspects that it would be a while longer, that we were about to consult our witnesses, plus there was word that another witness had stepped forward. That message was received with a collective groan, but let them groan for a while. We returned to tell our witnesses that there might be a couple of more suspects, and we were waiting a while longer to see if they materialized. We promised both groups lunch if the proceedings kept us past the noon hour.
I looked at my watch when George left, and again when he returned. Once again a smile creased his face.
“We have everything we need, and more. Look at all this stuff, Cy. And I found it just where you said I would.”
“That’s all a relief, George. Actually, I didn’t know for sure that it would work, but then, I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know for sure who our murderer was. Well, let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
We let all but two people leave, to go back to their homes, to go back to their lives, much as they were. One of those who remained would be charged with murder. Lou and I sat behind a desk as another officer led our murderer into the room.
“Please be seated.”
The murderer complied, ready to listen to what I had to say, so I began.
“When this murder occurred, Sgt. Murdock and I looked over our list of suspects. Most of them fit into three groups; family members and close friends, workmen who’d been in the Hardesty house sometime within the last few months, and people who’d threatened the deceased at some point in time. We looked carefully at each of the suspects, no matter in which group he or she fit. Common sense told us that more than likely the murderer was someone who had threatened Col. Hardesty at some point in time.
“Every murderer makes a mistake as some point. This time the murderer made a mistake of sending the deceased a threatening note. The note was meant to scare the old man, to make him feel unsafe in his own home, in his sacred library. Instead, it allowed Col. Hardesty to call his two friends he mentored since their childhood, Cy Dekker and Lou Murdock, now of the Hilldale Police Department homicide division. Without that phone call, Sgt. Murdock and I might never have learned the names of the three men who had reasons why they wanted to end Col. Hardesty’s life. Even at well past seventy, the old man had a great memory, and shared with us the only three people he could think of who wished him ill will.
“We found the first man quite easily. He’d never left town, and he’d never ceased to wish ill will on our friend. The other two took a lot more effort, and involved a lot more people, before we found them. One of them recently returned to Hilldale, after ten years away. When we confronted him, he seemed as carefree as anyone we’d ever met. He said he no longer wished harm on the old man, and, as it turned out, he spoke the truth. This young man proved that you can give up old grievances, if you’re willing to do what must be done.
“As we learned early on in our investigation, the third person, Carla Bauerman, died in a tragic accident some time back. We learned that her mother had also died, but her father was still living. We traced him to New York, and later to California, but in recent years, while he appeared in California from time to time, he seemed to disappear for longer periods of time. Through the cooperation of other police departments, and other organizations, we were able to secure sets of Carl Bauerman’s fingerprints. The ones here in the state matched those we received from New York, and the ones we received from California, so we deduced that Bauerman was Bauerman, no matter where he lived.
“Around a year ago, a man named Tom Johnson moved to Hilldale, came from Indiana. He worked in pest control in Indiana and continued the work he’d learned so well when he moved here. A few weeks ago, Johnson left Hilldale, but he left behind something when he left. Oh, he didn’t mean to leave anything behind, but there were a couple of places Johnson forgot to scrub, and, in short time, we were able to learn that Bauerman and Johnson were one and the same.
“But there’s more. This morning we lifted the prints of all those whom we invited to join us today, and so we learned that Bauerman and Johnson had a third identity. So, what do you propose we call you? Should we call you Bauerman, because that’s the name you’ve gone by the longest?”
“That’s fine, but just because I’m Bauerman doesn’t mean I killed the old man.”
“I’d agree with that. But there’s more. One of our witnesses identified you as the man with the long hair and beard.”
“Again, it’s just his opinion against mine.”
“Maybe. That would be for a jury to decide, but then I don’t think we’ll need a jury. A couple of hours ago, a judge granted us a search warrant, and what do you think we found. Not only did we find three drivers licenses and three passports, one in the name of each man whose identity you assumed, but we found all kinds of disguises, including the one you wore when you murdered our friend, the Colonel. So, what do you have to say about that, Mr. Bauerman?”
With that, Bauerman broke down and began to cry. In a minute or so, he composed himself, and began to speak.
“You don’t understand. Have you ever lost someone you love, Lieutenant?”
I covered my face so Bauerman wouldn’t see my reaction, the tears I almost shed.
I could tell that Bauerman was about to confess. We read him his rights before he began.
“My daughter had her whole life ahead of her, and then this professor yanked it from her, denying her her goal. It was the only thing my daughter ever wanted to do. She couldn’t handle her life being jerked from her. She went to the professor and pleaded, but it did no good. She tried other channels, but had no success. My wife and I tried to reach her, but my wife was battling cancer and could do only so much. Carla turned to drink, something so many immature young people do, and, as you know, one night she missed a curve and wrapped her car around a tree. In a matter of months, I had no wife. I had no daughter. I had no life. Nothing else mattered to me, and it was then that I vowed that some day, somehow, I would get even with the man who took my daughter away.
“So, I went away for a few days and put a plan in motion, a meticulous plan that would take years to implement. I taught drama in school, so I decided to use my knowledge of acting to pull this off. I went to New York, learned how to act. I’d already decided to muddle the waters, become as many people as I could. I knew that ultimately fingerprints might do me in, but I figured if I became enough people in enough distant places I might be able to see it through. I learned how to act
. I learned all about makeup and costume design. I learned how to look like one person, but make myself into three.
“All this time, I was still Carl Bauerman, but it came time to move on, time to become someone new, and so I did. I decided that Carl Bauerman needed to move as far away as possible, which turned out to be California. But as I left the east, I accepted a ride from a trucker, and experienced firsthand the life of a trucker, albeit briefly. But it was time for a new beginning. I contacted a friend, got a new identity. I became Bob Downey, trucker. Over time, I learned how to handle a rig. I split time between Bob Downey, long distance trucker, and Carl Bauerman, actor, grieving husband and father. I met people in the trucking industry, but not too many. I’d act in a play, then leave for a while to drive a truck.
“A few years later, I picked up another identity, that of Tom Johnson, bug man. I worked for a pest control company full-time, occasionally asking off to visit my sick mother. Who is going to deny a man’s right to visit his sick mother? And so, on a limited basis, I juggled three identities, three professions. I didn’t want someone to think that I was moving from identity to identity, but to think that Carl Bauerman, Bob Downey, and Tom Johnson were three different men.
“All this time, I lived on a shoestring, slept wherever I could, saved my money. I planned ahead. Slowly, I was moving toward a confrontation with the man who was responsible for my daughter’s death. I moved to Indiana, to be close enough to find out whatever I could about the professor. I followed the sale of real estate in the area, waiting for a house to become available, a house close enough where I could plan the old man’s murder.
“It was probably a stupid move on my part, but when a house came on the market right next door to the professor, I jumped at the chance to buy it. Not wanting to move too quickly, I waited for the right chance to move Tom Johnson with me. I was playing with fire. I knew it, but I didn’t want Johnson to go away, and I was tired of spending so much time in Indiana.
3 Murder In The Library Page 22