Consulting Detective

by Alan Manifold

  “My wife told me she had met him through VORP, but of course she didn’t know about the connection with Matthew. So, Rabbi Klemme suggested that Matthew find a church?”

  “That’s right. A bit odd, wouldn’t you say? But that’s what happened. Somebody Matthew’s mother knew referred him to Faith Tabernacle. The first time he came to meet me here, Rabbi Klemme came along, probably just to make sure Matthew actually showed up. I took a liking to the boy, and he seemed to sincerely want to turn his life around. He started coming to church and almost immediately gave his life to the Lord. Since then he has attended church regularly, as well as Bible study and other activities. He doesn’t have lots of friends in the church, as far as I can tell, and just goes it alone, I guess.”

  Mihdí took a moment to absorb that information. “You say Matthew talked about himself some. Did he tell you how he felt about having been led to the church by a Jew?”

  “Actually, he did talk about that a fair bit,” Crestwood acknowledged. “It really bothered him, to be honest. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to him.”

  “What does your church teach about members of the Jewish faith?” Mihdí asked.

  “Jews are lost creatures,” Crestwood said. “They were God’s chosen people before the coming of Christ the Lord. They had their chance to accept him as the Messiah. Those who did and became followers of Jesus Christ are counted among the saved. Those that did not are now wandering outside the path of God. But they are certainly not alone in that, and they are not beyond the hope of salvation.”

  “So do you think this teaching contributed to Matthew’s unease?”

  “I’m sure it did. It’s not like being brought to God by Satan or anything like that, but why would someone who lives in darkness encourage you to turn on a light?”

  “What’s your explanation for that?” Mihdí asked.

  “For me, I like to see the hand of God in everything that happens, good or bad. In this case, the rabbi may not have any idea why he said what he said, but I feel that God put the words into his mouth in order to bring Matthew to salvation.”

  “Interesting theory . . .” Mihdí said. “Did Matthew say more about this subject?”

  “Well, as I said, it bothered him a lot. He’d try to be okay with it for a while, but then it would eat at him a bit. He started wondering about Klemme’s motive. I think the rabbi tried to keep in touch with him from time to time, to see if he was on the straight and narrow, and Matthew resented it. He said he didn’t want any more help from ‘that Jew.’ He told me that just a week or so ago. Now are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “I appreciate your cooperation, Reverend,” Mihdí said. “Jacob Klemme was murdered in his synagogue in Pine Bluff earlier this week. It appears that Skefton had the opportunity to commit the murder, so I was trying to establish whether he had a motive.”

  There was a silence on the other end for a few seconds.

  “Well, I played right into that, didn’t I?” the Rev. Elijah Crestwood finally said quietly. “What do you think now?”

  “It certainly appears that Matthew could have a motive through his resentment of the help that Rabbi Klemme had given him,” Mihdí expounded. “But I have also learned that he is trying to get his life in order and is trying to discover and accept guidance from the Bible and the church. At this stage all of it, pro and con, is just background. Neither I nor any judge would convict a person based on impressions. I have absolutely no evidence that Matthew had anything to do with this crime. I’ll continue to give him the benefit of the doubt until such time as I do.”

  “I hope you do,” Crestwood said. “He’s a good kid. I can’t imagine he would be involved in murder.”

  “That’s an important endorsement, Rev. Crestwood,” Mihdí said. “I believe that sometimes ministers know more about what goes on inside their parishioners’ heads than they do. Thanks for your help.”

  “What was that about?” Andrea asked him when he returned to the living room where she was playing with the kids.

  “Part of this case,” Mihdí said. “I think I could have learned a lot from Rabbi Klemme. He sounds like he was quite an extraordinary guy.”

  “I thought that, too,” said Andrea. “I only talked to him briefly at one VORP mediators’ session, but he seemed to be really with it, both personally and professionally. I was hoping to invite him over for dinner sometime so we could get to know him better.”

  Mihdí found three flashlights, and he and the kids put on their coats so they could play outside for a few minutes while Andrea cleaned up the kitchen. When Mihdí and the children came back inside, both parents participated in getting them bathed and in bed, where Andrea read a story to Enoch while Mihdí read to Lua.

  Once the kids were in bed, the couple sat together on the couch and relaxed over a cup of eggnog. They loved their moments alone together, which were far too few for either of their liking. Mihdí rubbed Andrea’s feet and legs while they discussed the day. Andrea remembered Sam Schliebaum very well from a few events the older man had attended. She was also happy to hear that Mihdí had talked to Ray Engel, whom she hadn’t seen for several years.

  She was quite interested to hear about the connection between Jacob Klemme and Matthew Skefton through the Victim-Offender Reconciliation Program. Andrea was a member of the local VORP organization’s board and was herself a trained mediator. She thought Skefton’s name sounded familiar and that she had probably seen it in the quarterly reports received by the board, but she didn’t know any details and had never met him herself.

  Curiously, though, Andrea was most interested in hearing about Andy Sapp and what Darla Brownlee had said about the presence of racist groups in Pine Bluff. She was a psychologist and saw a number of clients in a private practice, but she and Lieutenant Brownlee had worked together on a couple of occasions to mediate between gang members and juvenile vandals and their victims. Darla Brownlee felt that the service that Andrea provided was one key to having fewer repeat offenders. The primary focus of the service was reconciliation, but this often involved restitution through work. In some cases, the offenders and the victims worked together to remove the stain of vandalism from the victim’s property. This, in turn, created links between the two that helped break the cycle of victimization. Andrea expressed the opinion that a similar process could help in resolving issues of racism. She was extremely passionate about the idea of applying psychological and spiritual principles to social issues such as race relations, women’s empowerment, and social justice and had worked with all sorts of groups and individuals on this type of work.

  “Do you think there’s any way to pry Andy Sapp away from this skinhead group?” she asked. “It sounds like he’s got a good family background, but he’s young enough to get in big trouble hanging out with those guys, especially since they’re all older than he is.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, too,” Mihdí admitted. “I tried to slip in a suggestion about him getting together with Dooby and Evan at the community center. It looked like Andy might be interested, but if I push it, I feel like it could backfire.”

  “If you see him again, just make sure he’s got it in his head,” Andrea said. “You never know what could happen with your case. If that skinhead guy is involved with the murder, Andy may end up needing some new friends.”

  “I’m not sure whether to hope for that or not,” Mihdí said with a sigh.

  He and Andrea went up to bed, and she read while he worked a crossword puzzle for a while. Before turning out the lights, they shared a reading from the Bahá’í writings and had their ritual hug and kiss before saying goodnight.

  Saturday, Day 4

  The next day was Saturday, and Mihdí spent the day at home and with his family. Although the weather had been fairly warm through most of November, the forecast called for a snowstorm in the next few days, so Mihdí and Andrea worked together sealing off a few of their leakiest windows from the inside with shrinkwrap plastic. Mihdí a
lso disconnected the hose, stowed it in the garage, and drained the gas from his lawn mower. Enoch and Lua helped their parents rake and pick up the last of the leaves on the lawn and patio.

  Andrea had called their Bahá’í friends Premila and Vijaya Chandra from Naperville and arranged to meet them and their family at a park after lunch. The previous day’s rain had disappeared, and it was a bit warmer, with bright sunshine. It was still jacket weather, but they took along extra sweatshirts in case it was colder in the openness of the park. They found, though, that Enoch and Lua, along with their friends Satish, Uma, and Mala Chandra, did so much running that they (and the parents keeping up with them) had to shed layers rather than add more.

  At one point Mihdí, who had been sharing child-watching duties with Vijaya, passed near the bench where Andrea and Premila were sitting and chatting. Andrea hopped up and said, “Time for you to take a break, honey. Sit down and consult with Premila about your case.” She walked toward where the kids were now playing.

  Mihdí sat down on the bench and massaged his calves as he gave Premila an overview of the main facts of the case. Premila was currently staying home to care for Mala, the youngest of their three children, but she had a PhD in Political Science, with a specialization in Criminal Justice. Before the birth of her oldest child, she had been a professor at a nearby university, and she continued to give guest lectures each semester.

  When Mihdí had listed the people he considered the main suspects (without naming names), she immediately zeroed in on Brent Wiegand, “This guy sounds like he has nothing to lose. Just a few years out of high school, working at a dead-end job in a factory, involved with skinheads, bad attitude. . . .”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t have much going for him, I have to agree,” said Mihdí. “And despite his account of his movements that day, I think he could have had time to get to the synagogue and kill the rabbi. What’s your take on the Christian bookstore guy?”

  “Well, of course, I can’t say much, since I only have your very brief impressions to go on. But it seems that he is messed up, but maybe not so messed up as to commit murder.”

  “Even though his boss thinks he might be capable of it?”

  “He probably is capable of it. But it sounds like this murder was unprovoked and from behind, right?”

  Mihdí nodded.

  “It would take someone with a lot of . . . something . . . to walk up behind a member of the clergy—of any religion—and whack him over the head. I’m not sure I can see a newly-minted Christian doing that, even to someone he’s not fond of. Of course, there may be lots more under the surface, so he still bears investigation.”

  “And the real estate guy?”

  “The way you described his alibi, I don’t see how he could be involved. Might have hired a hitman or something, I suppose, but I don’t think hitmen are easy to find. Most legitimate businessmen wouldn’t have a clue how to go about that.”

  “Good points. And your take on the ex-fiancé?”

  “We still have the problem of whacking someone on the head from behind, but at least he has a motive. Maybe it was personal for him; maybe he felt this rabbi was ruining his life. They could have had an argument, and he still could have been heated from that.”

  “Thanks for those thoughts, Professor,” said Mihdí with a grin.

  “I didn’t really do anything other than echo back what you told me,” she replied. “It sounds like you have your work cut out for you, though. Are you getting any pressure from the feds about hate crimes? I’d think they’d have their nose in on this.”

  “Apparently, they’re watching the case, but haven’t really gotten involved yet. My captain is fending them off for the present. But if I don’t make some progress soon, they may step in.”

  “That might not be such a bad thing. They have resources most police departments can only dream about.”

  “That’s true, but I’m not sure what good it would do them. I think this case will still come down to having lots of conversations with people until the right facts emerge. But if they take over the case, I’ve certainly got plenty of other things to do. I just hope justice is eventually served. It sounds like the rabbi was a really exceptional guy.”

  “I hate to change the subject, but did you ever succeed to your own satisfaction with homemade gulab jamun? I know you had tried several recipes and methods, but you weren’t very happy with the first few.”

  From that point, talk turned to cooking, particularly of Indian food, which was a passion they both shared. When the parents felt that the kids had gotten a healthy dose of time in the park, the two families went to an Indian restaurant, where they were joined by Premila’s parents, who were visiting from Texas. The Montgomerys returned home well after dark. Mihdí bathed the little ones, then Andrea got them into bed and read them stories.

  After the kids were in bed, Andrea decided to take a hot bath to soak away the fatigue of the day. Mihdí got on the Internet and did some research on skinhead group activity in the Chicago suburbs. What he read confirmed the information that Darla Brownlee had given him. He thought it wouldn’t hurt to interview Andy Sapp again to get more details about Brent Wiegand and the others in their little group. It appeared that the groups around the Chicago area were mostly just talk, but it certainly seemed that an impressionable young person might be inflamed to take action by the passionate rhetoric of the group. As often happened to him, Mihdí got totally absorbed in surfing from site to site on the Internet, and it was about 10:45 when he finally pried himself away and went to bed.

  Mihdí felt as if he had just gotten to sleep when the telephone rang, but the clock showed that it was about 12:30 a.m. The call was from the police dispatcher, telling him that a man had been arrested in circumstances that might bear on the Klemme murder case and that he ought to come down to the station. Mihdí got dressed and drove there. As a police detective, such calls were inevitable, but as he grew older, it was more difficult to pry his eyes open and function at one hundred percent.

  “What have we got?” he asked with a yawn when he checked in at the station.

  The dispatcher pointed him to the lounge, “Officer Roggins brought the guy in.”

  Mihdí went to the lounge and found Tim Roggins drinking a cup of coffee and filling out the last parts of an arrest report. Roggins was built like a football player: very solid in the shoulders and torso, thin hips and massive muscular legs and arms. He had been a starter on the football team his last three years in college, but he had never really considered a career in the sport. Instead, he had studied criminal justice and had enrolled in the police academy as soon as he had graduated. Unlike Mihdí, Roggins was wide awake, and he hopped up to greet Mihdí when he saw him enter the lounge.

  “Hey, Tim,” Mihdí said, “how are you tonight?”

  Roggins smiled. “Can’t complain,” he said, “although I usually do anyway. How’s the wife and kids?”

  “Asleep,” Mihdí said, “which is where I should be, too. How are Janet and that new baby of yours?”

  “Both doing fine,” Roggins replied. “Jan would like me to get on days now that we have the baby. Guess I don’t help out that much during the daytime, so she wants me to be there at night.” Roggins had been on the force about four years. As with many new recruits, he had been assigned to the night shift, but he had enough seniority now that he could ask for a transfer to days.

  “I can’t say I ever enjoyed getting up in the middle of the night,” Mihdí said, “but I have some great memories of walking around a dark house, putting a fussy baby back to sleep. I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.”

  “Thinking about it,” said Roggins. “May win me over yet.”

  “So, who’s this guy you brought in for me,” Mihdí asked.

  “Name is Sapp. Rick Sapp.”

  “What? That can’t be. Andy Sapp, maybe, but not Rick.”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about that, but I arrested him in front of the synagogue with a can o
f spray paint. Just started to spray something on the wall when I stopped him. Caught him red-handed. Literally. Looked like he’d sprayed more on his hands than on the wall.”

  “How did you happen to arrive at just the right time?”

  “Some lady called it in. She noticed a man dressed all in black, with a black ski mask pulled down over his face, walking through their neighborhood. Said the guy didn’t really seem to be tryin’ to hide. Just walking along the sidewalk, big as you please. But it looked suspicious to her.”

  “It’s warm for November. There’s certainly no need for a ski mask tonight.”

  “Guess that’s what the caller thought, too. I was in the area and was first on the scene. Waited ‘til Sapp started spraying the place so I could catch him in the act.”

  “Did Sapp resist arrest at all?”

  “Nope. Just dropped everything and held out his hands for handcuffs. Been quiet ever since. He’s in the interview room waiting for you.”

  “I wanted to ask you, Tim, have you been one of the officers taking extra passes down St. Andrews Drive?”

  “Yep. I don’t come on until 11:00, so I can’t say I’ve seen much. I talked to one of the afternoon ‘black and whites,’ and he said none of them have seen anything worth reporting.”

  “Well, that’s what I expected, but it’s good to know.”

  Mihdí stood and pondered for a little while before going in to talk to Sapp. His earlier visit to Sapp’s house had convinced him that neither Rick nor Andy would have murdered Rabbi Klemme. He figured that Sapp must be worried about Andy and was trying to protect him by diverting attention to himself. Mihdí opened the door and went in.

  “Hi, Rick,” he said.

  “Oh, Montgomery, it’s you.” Sapp blushed a deep red.

  “Yep, it’s me,” Mihdí said. He stood silent for a moment, looking at Sapp. “You know, Rick, I don’t think Andy killed the rabbi. I doubt he had anything to do with it.”

  Rick looked at him with his jaw wide open. He started to stammer an objection, but Mihdí cut him off. “Tell me why you think he did.”