The Good, The Bad and The Murderous (Sid Chance Myseries Book 2)

by Chester D. Campbell

  “You’re sure this is the guy seen coming out the back of the store after the murder?” Eggers asked.

  “It fits the time line. The nine-one-one call came in at three-thirty. The time stamp on the getaway frame is three twenty-four. That works out perfectly. The video showed the car coming up the alley from the direction of Prime Medical.”

  “We deal with security camera footage all the time. Shouldn’t be a problem to target in on the license tag.”

  “There’s a good shot in there of the driver’s face, for what it’s worth.”

  “If he’s a pro, it’s altered with a disguise.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “I can’t promise you anything, but since it’s at least peripherally tied in with an active case, maybe If I can get it done. If so, I’ll let you know who the car’s registered to. It would help my case if you had something good for us on Prime Medical’s owners.”

  Sid knew the best thing he could provide was Elena Ortiz, but he was reluctant to give her up until Jaz had gotten her to talk. “We’re following up on a couple of things. I may have something for you later today. I’m still trying to get a handle on Omar Valdez.”

  “I’ve asked our Albuquerque Field Office to check with the restaurant where Valdez worked. Let me know if you turn up anything.”

  If things went as he suspected with the Medical Examiner’s fingerprint record, Sid figured the FBI would find Omar Valdez still worked at the restaurant, had died, or was unknown. He counted on Jaz’s friend Dr. Abrams to come up with the Prime Medical president’s real name.

  When he got out to his car, he called Jaz. She was on the way downtown to meet with a company attorney to discuss the Earline Ivey case.

  “I called Reagan Abrams,” she said. “She confirmed that no one had requested a copy of Omar Valdez’s fingerprints. She said she would ask for a check with the FBI database and let me know what they found. Did you see Agent Eggers?”

  “I did. I gave him the disk and print. He wouldn’t promise anything. He’s reluctant to get out on a limb with us, but I think I convinced him it was something the FBI would like to have.” He also told her about the request to the Albuquerque Field office on Valdez.

  “So one way or the other, we should soon have something definite on Ortiz’s boyfriend.”

  “How are you making out with Elena?” Sid asked.

  “I’m working at it, but she’s still holding out. She’s definitely scared of what might happen to her, but I get the feeling there’s something else involved.”

  “Like what?”

  “I can’t put my finger on it. I’m hopeful Marie can warm her up for me. Turns out Elena likes to cook, so they should get along fine. I’ll make another try at winning her over as soon as I get back from the lawyer’s office.”

  The shelves behind K.C. Urban’s desk were lined with rows of imposing legal tomes, state and national codes, court decisions, books on civil procedures, contracts, consumer protection, criminal law casebooks. Jaz wondered if he had one on how to keep corporate chairmen out of trouble. She sat across the neat desk from the tall, hefty lawyer who exhibited the incongruous look of a short Marine Corps haircut and large Barry Goldwater-style hornrims. She began with the key question.

  “How do we get this mess cleared up, K.C.?”

  His name was actually Cayce Thornton Urban, but he didn’t like either of his given names so he chose to call himself K.C.

  “This murder business complicates things,” he said. “Earline Ivey’s supporters talked about going to the E.E.O.C., but this isn’t really a case for them. She alleged an isolated incident, not a pattern of activity by the company. But she gains a lot of sympathy because of what happened to her.”

  “I can understand that. It was anguishing to me. Did you know she had a thirteen-year-old daughter?”

  “I saw that. And the kid found her mother dead.”

  “It must have been terrible. I wish there was something I could do for her.”

  “Maybe later. Certainly not now. Her family would either refuse it or take it as an admission of guilt.”

  “I feel so helpless, so frustrated.”

  “Don’t let it get to you. It may not be as bad as it first seemed.”

  “In what respect?”

  “She filed a complaint with the Tennessee Human Rights Commission. I know their general counsel. She said they would have to investigate it, but on the surface it sounded like a pretty weak case.”

  “We didn’t do anything in retaliation,” Jaz said.

  “Right. That’s why she didn’t have much of a case. As you know, we’ve been looking into the possibility she had received a big payoff from one of our rivals. What happened Saturday changes the landscape.”

  “It would be nice to know, even if it’s a little late.”

  “We’ll find out, but there may not be anything we can do about it,” he said, absently rapping his knuckles on the desk.

  “So what should our position be?” Jaz asked.

  “I think we lay low, make as little noise as possible, and see what happens.”

  “That suits me fine. I’ll be happy to stay out of the limelight.”

  “I thought you would.”

  “If I weren’t committed to helping Sid Chance on an investigation, I’d probably take a long vacation.”

  K.C. smiled. “Might not be a bad idea.”

  “I was afraid I might have to call you to bail me out on Saturday.”

  He pushed the hornrims down and stared over them. “Why on earth…?”

  She told him what happened when Detective Masterson came out to talk to her about the murder.

  “It’s unfortunate you happened to drive through the area,” he said, “but that’s absurd. You haven’t done anything wrong. Why would you want to kill her?”

  “Exactly. It makes no sense.”

  “Call me if you have any more problems with the police. I started out practicing criminal law, you know.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “It was after I graduated from law school and went to work for a Knoxville legal firm. I took the full course in the college of hard knocks.”

  “Why did you give it up for civil law?”

  “I got burned out on criminals after awhile. You come across some interesting cases, but I couldn’t stomach dealing with clients whose innocence claims were about as valid as Charles Manson’s. Civil law can get really gritty at times, but it’s basically a gentleman’s sport.”

  Jaz grinned. “I like that. But I’ll keep your name on my speed dial.”

  Chapter 20

  When he left the FBI office, Sid checked for the possibility of anyone following him. It had become routine since the visit Friday night by Detectives Grimm and Kozlov, but the call on his answering machine last night added urgency to the mix. Though he had no idea who had initiated the call, it undoubtedly concerned the Prime Medical murder case.

  He saw no evidence of a tail as he pulled out onto Elm Hill Pike.

  Thinking about the .22 caliber pistol the TBI lab had tested, he decided to drop by Rachel Ransom’s house. He parked behind the blue Ford, walked to the door, and knocked. While he waited, a boy with a somber look and beady eyes who should have been in school ambled down the sidewalk, one hand gripping pants that hung perilously below his waist. Sid gave a slight shake of his head. This could be one of those boys Djuan Burden would have helped, given the chance.

  Mrs. Ransom opened the door and looked up at Sid. The same sad expression he had seen last Tuesday seemed etched onto her face.

  “May I come in for a moment?” he asked.

  She pushed open the screen door. “Please do.”

  After taking a seat in the living room, he spoke in a gentle voice.

  “I wish I could say I had found the answer to Djuan’s dilemma. Unfortunately, I haven’t. But I think we’re getting close to answering some significant questions.”

  “What sort of questions?�
��

  “About the identity of the man seen leaving the back of the medical equipment store right after the shooting. The FBI is helping us out on that.”

  “You think he was the real murderer?”

  “Yes, but we can’t prove it yet.”

  “Is Miss LeMieux all right?” The lines in her face seemed to deepen as she spoke.

  “She’s fine. We don’t always work together on a case. She’s taking care of some business at her company today.”

  “I just wondered. Poor thing. Marie Wallace told me what happened about that woman who was killed.”

  “It was very unfortunate for everybody. But I’m sure everything will work out.” He said it with conviction, though he was beginning to have some doubts.

  “I sure hope so. She’s a very nice woman.”

  The telephone rang on the table beside Mrs. Ransom. She picked it up and answered. As she listened, her face became more drawn; her mouth pulled into a taut line. After a few moments, she said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

  She blinked back the tears, her voice shaky. “That was Mr. Vandenberg, Djuan’s lawyer. He said the Grand Jury had indicted Djuan for the murder.”

  Sid crossed to where Rachel Ransom sat, got down on his knees, and held her hand. “That only means the District Attorney thinks he has a case. I promise you he doesn’t. When was the last time that pistol from your cedar chest was used to fire a bullet?”

  “Not since it left California.”

  “And that was what, fifteen years ago?”

  “About that.”

  Sid released her hand and she pulled a tissue from a box on the table beside her, dabbed her eyes with it.

  He stood and looked down at her, feeling some of the same agony that showed in her wrinkled face. “We’ll prove that man did it,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

  As he walked out to his car, he thought of that promise. He hadn’t make it idly. He wanted to prove Djuan Burden innocent more than anything. His personal integrity was at stake, and that was a major incentive.

  Jaz arrived home to find Marie in the kitchen teaching Elena Ortiz the delicate art of making meringue for a chocolate pie. She waited as Elena carefully placed the pan in the oven under Marie’s watchful eye.

  “Is this some new Mexican dish?” Jaz asked.

  Elena smiled. “I’ve had chocolate pie before, but it never looked like this. She has magic in her fingers.”

  “I’ve known that for years,” Jaz said.

  “Next time I cook something Mexican, you can show me how,” Marie said.

  Elena shrugged. “I’m not all that good a cook, but my mother was.”

  “Does she still live in El Paso?” Jaz asked.

  Elena cut her eyes sharply. “You must know all about me.”

  “Quite a bit. I know you worked at an orthopedic clinic in San Antonio. Let’s go in my office and chat a few minutes. Call us when that pie is done, Marie.”

  “You know it’s not proper to eat pie just before lunch.”

  Jaz grinned. “Okay. Call us when lunch is ready.”

  She led Elena into her office, provided a chair beside the desk and turned hers around so they faced each other. “Did you meet Omar in San Antonio?” she asked.

  Elena paused a moment, as if trying to decide how much to divulge, then nodded. “He came to the clinic as a patient with a sprained ankle. He had turned it when he jumped off a porch. I happened to be in the reception area when he was leaving. I helped him out to a friend’s car.”

  Jaz smiled. “Sounds like the beginning of a fairy-tale romance.”

  Elena closed her eyes and winced. “Fairy-tale romances don’t end this way.”

  “That’s true.” Jaz leaned forward in a gesture of urgency. “You would like to see the person responsible for this punished, wouldn’t you?”

  “I doubt that he will be.”

  “We can make it happen if you’ll help us.”

  “You don’t know these people.”

  “You keep referring to ‘these people.’ Is it a criminal gang?”

  With lips firmly closed, Elena nodded.

  “Are they involved in Medicare scams?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  She squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it.”

  “You’re safe here now,” Jaz said. “The FBI can assure your future safety.”

  Elena spoke so softly Jaz could hardly hear the words. “It could hurt others.”

  What others could she be concerned about, Jaz wondered? Then she recalled what she had read on the internet regarding Elena’s brother, Pablo.

  “Might it hurt Pablo?” she asked.

  Elena’s eyes flashed. “What do you know about my brother?”

  “I know he’s been involved in several drug arrests. Was Omar’s murder carried out by a drug gang?” As she thought about it further, she added, “A Mexican drug cartel?”

  Elena covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Jaz put an arm around her shoulder and handed her a box of tissues. She felt terrible for having inflicted the pain, but it appeared the only way to get the information they needed. Did the end in this case justify the means? She wasn’t sure, but she was convinced Elena had confirmed a key piece of the puzzle..

  Chapter 21

  An overwhelming sense of helplessness continued to plague Sid after he returned to his office. He had promised Rachel Ransom they would prove who committed the murder of Omar Valdez, but they were still a long way from reaching that goal. He remembered what Jaz had said when she first called him about Djuan Burden’s arrest.

  “If he’s innocent, you’ll prove it.”

  It was time he lived up to his reputation.

  When the phone rang, he saw FBI Agent Baron Eggers’ number on the caller ID.

  “Is your fax turned on?” Eggers asked. “I’m about to send you a copy of the enhanced photo. You owe me on this one, friend. I had to call in a marker to get it done.”

  Sid’s voice took an upbeat turn. “Just name your price. Can you read the plate number?”

  “Yeah, but there’s a slight problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The plate doesn’t belong on that car. It was stolen from a Mustang in a parking lot at a shopping center.”

  Sid gave a sigh of disgust. He felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on his head. It was hardly the ecstatic feeling a football coach got when his players doused him with Gatorade.

  “Which shopping center?”

  “The Mall at Green Hills.”

  “He must have switched plates shortly before going to the medical equipment store.”

  “Probably. He would have ditched the stolen one when he finished the job for sure. Sorry. You win some, you lose some.”

  Sid turned his chair and looked out the window where the sky had turned as gloomy as his mood. “I’m getting tired of being on the losing end.”

  “I know the feeling. Before I came with the Bureau, I worked homicide in Kansas City. We had a case like this with an obvious hired killer. The victim had been accused of raping a young woman whose father was a wealthy businessman. The crime scene offered practically nothing. The killer fired three shots. There was no brass, no fingerprints, nothing. When people in the area were questioned, we got one description of a guy going toward the scene, a different description of a man leaving the scene.”

  “Did you find him?”

  “Not a chance. He was a skilled disguiser, a real pro. He probably used multiple identities. The father denied any knowledge of the murder, and we couldn’t find any trail leading to him.”

  “I suppose it’s a stroke of luck that we got a picture of this guy, although he probably doesn’t really look like the photo. Maybe I can get something from the car.”

  “I’ll go ahead and fax the photo to you,” Eggers said. “And I sympathize with your frustration. We’ve struck out so far in finding Elena Ortiz.”


  They had to give him Ortiz, Sid thought. If Jaz hadn’t come up with any answers, they’d be forced to let the FBI give it a try. He thanked Eggers and punched off the phone. A couple of minutes later, the fax part of his all-in-one printer activated and began to crank out the picture. He walked over to retrieve it and laid it on his desk.

  He had no trouble reading the license number, for all the good it did. As he studied the photo, though, he noticed something odd down in the lower right corner. The image had been enlarged so it showed the tag and part of the rear bumper beneath it. What he saw in the corner appeared to be a portion of a small sticker, maybe a logo. It had no lettering, only three stars along a diagonal line. The photo was black and white, but two of the stars were shaded, apparently indicating different colors. The shape had a familiar look.

  He pulled out a drawer where he kept his financial records and searched a couple of months back, when he had used an airline for a quick trip out of town. He located the date, thumbed through papers for a rental car receipt, finally pulled it out. The symbol—red, white and blue stars above a blue line—appeared just to the left of “TriStar Car Rental.”

  Sid checked the phone book. It showed only one local office for TriStar, located at Nashville International Airport. He took it as a clear signal they were dealing with a hired killer. He flew into town, rented a Ford Fusion, switched the license plate in case he was seen, and checked out Prime Medical Equipment. When he was ready, he parked in the alley, probably picked the lock, sneaked in, and murdered Omar Valdez, or whoever the scammer might turn out to be. Then he stopped somewhere on the way to the airport, replaced the original license tag, tossed his gun into the weeds, and caught a flight back to his home base.

  Sid locked up the office, climbed in his car, and drove through Madison to Briley Parkway, which would take him to I-40 one exit below the airport. As he passed the sprawling Opryland Hotel, recently re-opened after a $270 million face-lift necessitated by Nashville’s disastrous spring floods, he saw buses lined up to transport conventioneers to some local tourist venue. Just beyond the hotel stood the sadly vacant wings of the Opry Mills Mall and its vast empty parking area, one victim of the 2010 floods that hadn’t been restored. Only the small section occupied by Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World had been re-opened.