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

by Chester D. Campbell

  “It looks like it’s up to us to get Jaz out of this mess.” Sid rubbed a hand across his beard. “Some of your colleagues are dealing off the bottom of the deck.”

  “So you told me.”

  “But I haven’t told you what happened last night.”

  Sid related how he had tracked down Ram Kozlov at the Melrose bar and what had been said.

  “You’ll never get him to admit he’s done anything wrong,” Bart said.

  “I agree. What I have in mind is working on his partner in the Burden case.”

  Sid outlined his plan to use Bart, Wick Stanley and himself to get Victor Grimm’s cooperation.

  Bart gave him a skeptical look. “It might work, but I wouldn’t put too much faith in it. I haven’t been around Grimm much since they split up homicide some six years ago.”

  “I imagine Wick has been more involved with him since they’re in the same precinct.”

  “As a sergeant, he’d likely have more contact than a patrolman. Talk to him and see if he’ll agree to do it. How do you figure on getting Grimm to sit down with us?”

  The waitress arrived with their menus, and Sid waited until she had left to answer Bart’s question.

  “I doubt he’d agree to anything I suggested. My idea was to have one of you, probably Wick, tell him you had someone with new information on the Djuan Burden murder, but the source would only talk to Grimm. The lady who runs the florist shop next to Prime Medical Equipment has been very cooperative. I think she’d loan us her workroom. And when we get to the glove business, I’ll call her in to tell what she saw.”

  “I’ll go along with that,” Bart said. “The longer this situation smolders, the more damage Jaz suffers. When do you want to set it up?”

  “Tomorrow, if possible. I’ll check with Wick and find out if Grimm might be available.”

  The waitress came back to take their orders, but before she got to Bart, his phone rang. He turned away and spoke for a few moments.

  “Sorry,” he said to their server, “I can’t stay.” He looked around at Sid. “Shooting in East Nashville. Let me know what Wick says.”

  With that, he strode out of the restaurant, leaving the waitress with a baffled look.

  Sid smiled. “He’s a Metro detective. Stuff happens. Looks like I’ll be eating alone.”

  Chapter 30

  Jaz met Forrest McGinnis at K.C. Urban’s office. A chubby, pink-cheeked Irishman, the noted criminal defense lawyer took her hand in both of his with a bright, paternal smile. He had thin white hair and looked to be in his mid-to-late sixties.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you, Miss LeMieux,” he said. “I’m familiar with your accomplishments and your father’s before you.”

  Jaz nodded, reclaimed her hand, and took one of the chairs in front of K.C.’s desk. “I’m afraid my dad was much more accomplished than I am.”

  “Don’t be so modest. I’m aware of the way you rose above your adversity.”

  He must have known my mother, she thought. “Thank you, Mr. McGinnis. I’ve been blessed, and fortunately I’ve never run into anything remotely like what I’m facing now.”

  “K.C. has told me a bit about your situation, but I think it would be instructive for you to go through it with me from the start.”

  Jaz began with the incident at the Welcome Home Store when Earline Ivey had inexplicably accused her of racial harassment. She followed with her participation in Sid’s investigation of the Djuan Burden murder case, the confrontations with Homicide Detective Victor Grimm and later with Ramsey Kozlov, leading to the realization that Grimm and his partner had fired Rachel Ransom’s pistol.

  “You’re certain the detectives are responsible for the gun being fired?” McGinnis asked, concern showing in the lines on his forehead.

  “There’s no other explanation,” Jaz said and explained why.

  “This is a most serious charge,” McGinnis said.

  Jaz nodded. “And it gets worse.”

  She told him about their discovery of the apparent hit man in the Burden case and Sid’s belief that Earline Ivey had experienced a similar fate.

  When she had finished, McGinnis could only shake his head in dismay. “This is one of the most complicated and confusing homicides I’ve encountered in quite a while. I can see ample opportunity to cast doubt on the state’s case, but as I’m sure you know, juries can be quite fickle. That glove with your fingerprints is the most damning evidence. Your admission that you were in the area is unfortunate, even though a result of pure coincidence.”

  “I have witnesses to where I was that morning except for the period around nine-thirty. If I was at Mrs. Ivey’s house that time of day, shouldn’t some of the neighbors have seen me?”

  “You would think so,” the lawyer said, “but it’s always possible no one was paying any attention to her house then. We can press the police on that point, ask why they were unable to place you at the scene. What do we know about the time of death?”

  “I have a friend who’s a forensic pathologist at the Medical Examiner’s office. She told me they had calculated it as between seven and ten a.m.”

  McGinnis raised an eyebrow. “Experienced pathologists will tell you that methods of estimating time of death can be quite inaccurate. Nevertheless, your friend’s scenario with the man at the convenience market just after seven fits their parameters.”

  Jaz thought about mentioning Sid’s plan to pry a confession out of Detective Grimm but decided it was too speculative. “The only motive I can imagine they might claim is revenge, and nobody can say I’m a vengeful person.”

  “We can find an endless supply of witnesses who would testify that she has never shown any bias toward African-Americans,” Urban said.

  McGinnis nodded. “That would certainly be helpful. Is there any possibility of finding someone who would say they knew of Mrs. Ivey’s plot to cause trouble for the company by making her accusations against Miss LeMieux?”

  Jaz turned to K.C. Urban. “Has the investigation of Earline Ivey turned up anything positive?”

  He reached for a paper on his desk. “I just got this. She had been delinquent in her mortgage payments for several months and was facing the possibility of foreclosure. A few days after your run-in with her, however, she was able to pay off the mortgage in full.”

  “Then it’s pretty obvious what happened,” Jaz said.

  “To us, yes, but we don’t know the source of the money. I’m sure it was funneled to her in a way that would be difficult to trace.”

  Jaz gave a deep sigh. “Earline Ivey found herself in a tough situation. I wish she had come to us when they first approached her. I’d have let her have the money to pay off the mortgage.”

  “People don’t always make the best decisions when they’re facing that kind of a crunch,” McGinnis said.

  “My friend told me they had completed the autopsy on her this morning. That means they’ll release the body for burial. I don’t suppose it would be a good idea for me to attend the funeral.”

  “No,” the lawyers said in unison.

  K.C. Uban folded his arms in a defensive posture. “I still think it best that you maintain a low profile until this business is resolved.”

  “I agree,” McGinnis said. “We don’t need to stir any more passions.”

  “I’m sure some of her fellow employees will want to attend the funeral,” Jaz said. ‘And a company official, at least her manager, should be there.”

  “That would be appropriate.” McGinnis looked up from the notes he had been jotting on a pad. “Getting back to your problem, do you know of anyone else who has encountered difficulties with Detective Kozlov? Someone who could provide testimony that would show the officer is untrustworthy?”

  “Sid Chance is working on a plan to try and get one of his fellow homicide detectives to do just that.”

  “Let’s hope he’s successful,” McGinnis said. “If he can’t come up with something, we could be in serious trouble.”


  Chapter 31

  Sid called Sgt. Wick Stanley as soon as he returned to his office. He heard traffic noises in the background. “Are you on duty?” he asked.

  “Yeah, A for Adam shift for a change. You need some help?”

  “I just talked to Bart about an idea I had. I need to fill you in on it, but I’d probably best do that in person. Anywhere we could meet?”

  “I’m just finishing up a situation in Green Hills. How soon could you make it?”

  “This time of day it shouldn’t take more than twenty-five minutes for me to get over there. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Call me when you get onto Hillsboro Pike.”

  Sid headed out to his car and took Vietnam Veterans Boulevard toward I-65. From there it was a straight shot to the turnoff at I-440. As soon as he negotiated the corkscrew ramp onto Hillsboro Pike, he pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Wick.

  “I’m free at the moment,” Wick said. “You want something to eat?”

  “No, thanks. I just had a big lunch. Bart didn’t fare so well, though. He got called out before he had a chance to eat.”

  “I got a break and met a couple of my guys at a barbeque place. I’m near the mall now. Why don’t we meet in front of the old Prime Medical store. It’s still vacant.”

  A few minutes later, Sid pulled in beside Wick’s patrol car. The parking area lay vacant except for a pickup truck in front of the clothing store at the other end. He got out and climbed into the passenger seat, his large frame a bit cramped by the police computer. The speaker crackled with calls from the dispatcher.

  “What have you and Bat Masterson been cooking up?” Wick asked, using the name he often used in a joking manner for his detective friend.

  “Something that looks like our best shot at getting Jaz out of this quagmire.”

  Sid explained his plan to confront Victor Grimm in an attempt to get his admission of what had happened with Rachel Ransom’s gun and what he knew about Ram Kozlov’s visit to the closed medical supply store.

  “I haven’t had much contact with Grimm other than on precinct business,” Wick said.

  “At least you have a relationship that should get him to listen to you.”

  “Yeah, but what can I say? You admit you have no proof they fired that gun. If Bart and I were to accuse him of fabricating evidence with nothing but hearsay, he could file a complaint against us with the Office of Professional Accountability.”

  “We’re ninety-nine percent positive they did it.”

  “On what basis?”

  “I was convinced after what Grimm said that night when I reminded him of Mrs. Ransom’s statement that the gun hadn’t been fired in fifteen years. But even more convincing is the FBI’s decision to treat the Omar Valdez murder as a contract killing.”

  “The agent you worked with told you that?”

  “The Dallas office is tracking down the hit man. They have a description and a good trail to follow. Anyway, I’m not worried about the Djuan Burden case. It’s this Earline Ivey situation that has Jaz in a bind. We have to find a way to show that Kozlov planted that glove at the murder site.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “To protect you guys, I’ll do most of the talking, but I need your presence as a moral force. Without it, he wouldn’t listen to a thing I have to say. Bart assures me that Grimm is really a decent cop who got emotionally messed up by the job.”

  Wick tapped his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, then turned back to Sid. “Bart agreed to this deal?”

  “Right. As long as you go along with it.” He looked Wick in the eye and said with as much feeling as he could put into it, “I don’t know any other way we can save Jaz from a rigged murder trial.”

  The sergeant reached over and punched a button on the computer screen, causing a list of open calls to scroll down. “Okay. Count me in. Have you cleared this with the lady at the florist shop?”

  “No, but I’ll do that right now.”

  When he opened the door to get out, Wick called after him. “I need to get moving. Call me when it’s set up.”

  As the patrol car backed out and turned toward the traffic, Sid walked past the vacant medical supply store, now bearing a for lease sign. He entered the flower-bedecked shop next door and looked around for the owner. The tinkle of a bell attached to the door brought her out of the workroom in back.

  He smiled. “Remember me?”

  “I sure do, Mr. Chance. Good to see you again.”

  “I have a little problem I hope you can help me out with,” he said.

  He outlined what he wanted to do, without going into what the problem was with the detective. She agreed to go along with the plan, which Sid hoped to get set up for late the next afternoon. With that settled, he pulled out the Kozlov photo and showed it to her.

  “Have you seen this man?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “It looks just like that man I saw go into the old Prime Medical store, the one I told you about last week.”

  “Just as I expected,” he said. “Thanks. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He walked back to his car and called Wick. “It’s all set with the florist shop owner. Let me know after you talk to Grimm.”

  “I’ll try to catch him this afternoon.”

  Sid returned to his office and printed out a list of the key points they had uncovered during the Djuan Burden investigation. He began putting them together in a report he would present to the lawyers at Bailey, Riddle and Smith tomorrow. A quick glance gave the impression they had accumulated enough to convince Vandenberg and Hersholt of Djuan’s innocence, though what he could say about the FBI’s help was limited as it involved an ongoing federal investigation. But when he considered how little of the information could be termed concrete evidence, he realized he faced an uphill battle. If all went well with the Grimm session tomorrow, though, he hoped to be able to write “Closed” on the Valdez-Delgado murder case.

  Chapter 32

  Wednesday dawned bright as a rosebush in the spring, a flowery sight that attracted Sid’s gaze as he took off on his morning run. The smell of fresh-mown grass triggered memories of youthful chores and his mother’s guiding hand. He wondered what she might counsel in difficult times like these. Today would be critical for Jaz and himself.

  He got to the office early and soon had a call from Wick Stanley.

  “Grimm was leery of it but finally agreed to meet us at three,” he said. “He argued that the case was settled and ready for trial, but I convinced him he needed to hear this to keep from possibly getting his tail caught in a crack.”

  “I’ll park nearby and watch for you guys to go in. After you’ve had time to get settled in the back room, I’ll make my appearance.”

  “Good,” Wick said. “If he saw you first, he might back out. I’ll call Bart and tell him.”

  With that settled, Sid called Jaz and alerted her to the plan.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said. “Forrest McGinnis, my new defense attorney, said we could be in real trouble without some evidence to explain that latex glove.”

  Sid knew it was far from a sure thing, but he kept his voice upbeat. “The three musketeers will be riding to the rescue this afternoon.”

  He had to make one more call to put the final touches on his plan. He punched in FBI Agent Baron Eggers’ phone number.

  “Sorry, I’m not available at the moment,” said the agent’s voice. “If this is an emergency, call the office.” He gave the phone number.

  Sid left a message for Eggers to call him, then did the same with the man who answered the phone at the FBI office. Turning to his computer, he did a final edit of his report on the Djuan Burden case and sent it to the printer. He slipped the pages into a folder and took them out to his car.

  With rush hour past, he made it downtown in short order and parked in the garage at the Bailey, Riddle and Smith building. He took the elevator up, and it stopped at the main
floor. Two passengers got on. One was a young woman carrying a bag from a fast food store. The other was an elderly man neatly dressed in black slacks and an open-collared white dress shirt. He wore a ball cap with the logo of the Music City Honor Flight.

  “You must be a World War II veteran,” Sid said. “A friend of mine went on one of those flights to Washington to visit the World War II Memorial.”

  The man smiled. “It was a whirlwind tour, but I really enjoyed it. Got to talk to some fellas who’d been the same places I was.”

  Sid patted him on the shoulder. “You guys are the real heroes. We appreciate your service.”

  He looked up at Sid. “You’re a big fellow. Were you ever in the military?”

  “Vietnam. That was a whole different ball of wax.”

  The elevator stopped and the old veteran stepped off. Sid continued on to Arnie Bailey’s floor, where he asked if Vandenberg and Hersholt were available.

  “Mr. Vandenberg is in,” the receptionist said. “I’ll see if he can talk to you.”

  A few moments later, the short, heavy-set man walked out and beckoned to Sid. He followed the lawyer back to a windowless office, sparely furnished with a desk and chair, a couple of wooden bookshelves, a small table bearing a few magazines, and a couple of straight chairs for visitors.

  Sid dropped the folder on Vandenberg’s desk atop a stack of transcriptions. “Here’s what we’ve put together on the case.”

  “Have a seat and let me look it over,” the lawyer said.

  He skimmed through the pages, rechecked a couple of points, and looked up with a grin. “I’m impressed. Finding that surveillance camera footage was a real break.”

  “The mechanic who saw the man drive away put us onto it. Jaz has a friend in security at the bank. We thought there’d be a good chance of finding something.”

  “How did you find the car?”

  Sid told him about the stolen license plate and the rental car logo.

  “You say the FBI is looking into the hit man’s identity. Where does that stand?”