I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1)

by W B Garalt

  Don Chace had been the first one in on this morning. Chief Devaro came in next, followed by Detective Salvadore.

  Salvadore’s office was across the central hallway, toward the front of the building. Chace could overhear Lieutenant Salvadore when he came down the hall to the chief’s office. Salvadore had gone to a holiday party after the Memorial Day parade and was expecting the chief to commend him this morning on taking over leading the police platoon. He was not aware that Don Chace and Chief Devaro had gone to the scene of the Sheffield killing.

  Without a greeting, or without excusing himself, Salvadore started right in asking the chief questions about the previous nightly news regarding the Sheffield incident. He wanted to know if the chief expected him to make contact there to investigate any connections with his two cases.

  Ignoring the lieutenant’s questions about Sheffield, the chief said to him; “I understand you did a great job with the parade detail yesterday, I appreciate it.”

  Faking modesty, Salvadore answered; “No sweat Lou…, er, Chief, it was a snap.” Then Chief Devaro instructed him to check back with him before he went out, after the morning briefing. Satisfied that he could get more info about the Sheffield case later, Salvadore acknowledged the instructions and went to the briefing room.

  Inspector Chace looked around the corner.

  “Do you want me to fill him in on yesterday’s action?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll take care of it; I’m going to talk to him later, after the briefing.” the chief stated flatly.

  “Well, I’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” said the inspector. “I’ll catch you later and fill you in with whatever I turn up.”

  As Inspector Chace left the headquarters parking lot he entered, into his GPS, the address of “Gormley Properties”, the real estate office handling the sale of the Sheffield property where the last killing occurred. He had called earlier to arrange an interview with the manager.

  On his cell phone he noticed a voicemail from a friend who worked in the State Medical Examiner Division. Playing back the voicemail he learned that he needed to call his friend to get the info he requested. He pressed redial and his friend answered.

  “I’ve got some interesting stuff here, Don. Your victim died the same way that the two in East Wayford did, blunt force to the neck. It ruptured a carotid artery, compressed the jugular vein and fractured the trachea. The trauma from the strike probably caused instant unconsciousness, resulting in cardio and respiratory arrest within four-to-ten minutes.”

  “Okay, thanks for the heads up. I know the formal report isn’t ready yet. I owe you one, man.” Chace replied. Mentally he began to assemble some pieces of the puzzle.

  We have serial killing going on here for sure. All three took place in vacant or unoccupied buildings. They occurred in the late night or early morning. They took place within a sixteen mile radius. All victims were male with identical causes of death. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  Chace’s GPS was leading him back to Sheffield on the same route used the day before. After a fifteen minute drive he pulled into the parking spaces of Gormley Properties.

  The office building was located at the entrance to a complex of six or seven three-story brick apartments. It served as a real estate brokerage as well as the apartment rental and management office.

  The interview revealed that the property on Old Persia Road had been listed for sale six days prior to the incident. An open house for brokers was held on Sunday, the day before Memorial Day. It ran from 1PM till 3PM. Seven local real estate offices or practitioners were represented according to the sign-in register. Chace asked for, and was provided with, a copy of the register.

  He asked if there was anything unusual reported and he received a negative reply. Based on the informal report from his friend the medical inspector, Chace was now considering this as a case of homicide.

  The next stop on Chace’s list was with the property owner, or owners. He called Doc Franklin to advise him of the situation and that he could have the police barrier tapes and posted warnings removed from the crime scene property. The owners could return to their home now as far as the inspector was concerned, but he wanted to ask them a few questions.

  As he drove to the Old Persia Road location, his cell phone beeped. It was Doc Franklin calling back to tell him that he had pulled the constable off the scene and removed the police paraphernalia. He also told Chace that the Jaguar automobile at the scene had been towed to the State Police Barracks.

  According to Doc, the property owners seemed a bit distraught. Their young children hadn’t been allowed home yet, had missed a day of school, and were quite confused, as were the parents. They requested a future date for the interview with the inspector.

  Chace agreed and asked Doc to arrange a meeting at his office at Sheffield Town hall, if that was Okay with him. Agreement was reached and Chace said he’d wait for the call.

  The change in his plan for the day called for a U turn which Chace executed perfectly, a legal and easy maneuver for a police officer trained in defensive driving maneuvers. He then pulled over and stopped in order to re-shuffle his agenda for the day.

  A call to the main State Police headquarters provided information on the Jaguar ownership. As it turned out, the auto was registered to a well-to-do woman with a primary residence located in Greenville CT, an upscale town located at the Southwestern Connecticut/New York state line. The Jaguar owner’s attorney had filed a missing person report for her husband the previous day.

  The Greenville police department was an elite force which was adept at protecting a wealthy and politically influential segment of the Connecticut citizenry there. They cooperated with the State Police, although at arm’s length, usually in a respectable, fair and equitable manner.

  Meanwhile, back in East Wayford, once the morning briefing was completed Detective Salvadore went to Chief Devaro’s office. “Come in Joe, shut the door and have a seat.” offered the chief. Thinking that he was going to get some confidential information about the killing in Sheffield, Salvadore was ‘all ears’. The chief, however, had other news. “Sal”, he started, “I’ve got you enrolled in a three week course in Pittsburg, PA.”

  Across his desk he handed Salvadore a portfolio titled “Capital Crime and Public Relations.” Salvadore was stunned.

  “When does it start? He asked.

  “Next Monday”, said the chief, “Take the rest of the week off and get yourself prepared for it. It’s paid for and you’ll be on a per-diem, so you’ll do Okay.”

  “Isn’t this a bad time to pull away from the investigation and all?” inquired an uncharacteristically concerned Salvadore.

  “No problem, we’re covered for a while with the state inspector in house. We’ll bring you up to speed when you get back.” The chief rose from behind his desk. “Have fun, Sal.” He said.

  A chagrined Detective Salvadore turned and left the office with a distracted, bewildered appearance. Thank God for small favors! Chief Devaro thought.

  Before noon, special deliveries of “Recommendations” came down from the Connecticut Governor’s Office, simultaneously, to Eugene VanDyke, Mayor of East Wayford and Everet Franklin, First Selectman of Sheffield. It suggested that they consider a joint press release along with the area State Police Homicide Inspector. The Press release was to address the recent mysterious deaths in the south central Connecticut region.

  “Perhaps a video press conference would be the best approach” was the advice offered by the author of the mailing, the Governor’s Press Secretary.

  A phone call for Chief Devaro came at 12:10 PM., just as the chief was leaving for lunch. Mayor VanDyke asked him to meet for a confidential lunch, if possible.

  “Sure Gene, why don’t we meet at the tennis clubhouse, your treat!” responded Lou Devaro in a jesting tone. The mayor agreed and deferred any details until they met. Ten minutes later, the two community leaders were seated at the meeting table in one of the small conference rooms a
t the club.

  The Mayor showed the chief the recommendation from the Governor’s Office.

  “You know, Lou, I don’t do a lot of phublic spheaking” [public speaking], he said with his defective diction, “I’m fine with chairing the Town Council and phrivate [private] meetings, but a TV ‘turkey-shoot’ is something] else. I was wondering if you would do the phress compherance [press conference] with Doc Phranklin [Franklin]”. Without hesitation Chief Devaro accepted.

  The Mayor had helped him out several times during his tenure as chief and he knew Gene VanDyke to be not only an honorable man, but a practical one as well. Because of this, he had been re-elected to seven consecutive terms as Mayor of East Wayford. Jokingly, and in private, he would often claim that his political success was due to the fact that he made very few speeches. As a lawyer, however, Gene had decided to operate his office specializing in corporate law for a reason. He would have made a great trial lawyer but his speech defection would have detracted from his efforts.

  While they ate lunch, the chief told the Mayor about sending Lieutenant Salvadore to Pennsylvania for the course in public relations.

  “This whole thing over these killings was probably made a little worse by the way Salvadore handled the last press release”, the chief stated, “With the State Inspector here, I’m thinking it’s better if he’s out of contact for a few weeks.” Mayor VanDyke agreed without question.

  With the meeting finished, the chief reminded the Mayor about the free lunch promise.

  “Okay Gene, put this one on your social members meals tab. A deal is a deal.”

  “You’ve got it Lou, said the Mayor, after a hearty laugh.

  Chapter 17

  Max Hargrove was stopping back at his apartment for a notebook which he forgot when he left for an appointment earlier on this Tuesday morning. As he drove into the parking lot he saw Bruce Grover talking to Mrs. Durham, a tenant. Max was in sort of a rush so he waved as he went into the north entrance of the building.

  While in his office he noticed out of the front facing window, that Mrs. Durham was waving her arms and talking animatedly to Bruce, who was standing in front of her with a blank, rather stupid look on his face.

  As Max trotted down the stairway and exited the building, Mrs. Durham motioned him over to where they were standing.

  “Hello Mrs. Durham.” he said politely. “Hey Bruce” he added, although more businesslike.

  “Look at my car!” Mrs. Durham exclaimed anxiously to Max. “It’s all scratched along the side.” Max acknowledged the damage and turned to Bruce:

  “Is this something that happened on the property?” he asked.

  “I don’t know anything about it” he answered flatly. At that, Mrs. Durham was turning a little pale and holding her chest with both hands.

  “Easy now, Mrs. Durham” said Max, trying to console her. “Why don’t you go inside and rest. I’ll be back later and we’ll try to settle this.” The tenant, more calm, now, agreed. She told Max that she usually went to bed at around 6 PM.

  “If I get back too late, I’ll knock on your door tomorrow morning.” Max answered.

  Before Bruce could add anything more, Max told him that he had an appointment and was running a little late. They agreed to go over the matter later. As he drove off he thought, what in hell was this about?

  Mrs. Dunham, a widow, was pushing ninety years of age and she didn’t drive much. Bruce had told Max, some time back, that Mrs. Durham had asked him to drive her into town a few times. He also took her car to the auto dealer for servicing when needed. She would give him a ten dollar bill each time. They had a little chuckle over that but Max was considerate enough to realize that ten dollars was probably a typical weeks pay when she was a youngster.

  Max doubted that she had caused the scratches herself, but, it was possible. She was hard of hearing and could have side-swiped something without realizing it.

  Jesus, he thought, I’ve worn a lot of hats since I bought this building, rental salesman, building manager, amateur plumber, furniture mover, detective…what now, Judge?

  He realized his speed and slowed a bit. A speeding citation wasn’t what he needed right now, he was on the way to meet Maggie.

  They had called Max’s boss, Carl Jenson, to arrange a meeting with him at his office. Carl had agreed and asked about the reason but Max had suggested it should wait until the three of them got together. After a quick non-martini lunch at a local diner, the two arrived at Jenson & Associates at the pre-arranged time.

  “Well, Ms. Marshall, it’s certainly nice to see you. It’s been a while” was Carl Jenson’s greeting as he shook her hand with both of his. Maggie withdrew her hand tactfully as she reciprocated the greeting.

  “Carl, can we use the meeting room please?” Max asked. Carl agreed and they followed him toward the small meeting room at the rear of the office.

  “Pull up chairs and make your selves comfortable.” Carl said amiably as he closed the French doors.

  The meeting went on for approximately twenty minutes. Max started it off and Maggie filled in as they explained their personal involvement. Carl was quite surprised, for some reason, or at least he acted that way. He assured the couple in a factual manner that they were both considered valuable to his operation and acknowledged that business had slowed a bit, but it was expected to pick up going into the summer season.

  From his perspective there were no reservations about the two of them working as a team, in fact, he thought it would be a non-productive move for them to alter their business relationship.

  Maggie and Max exchanged commentary with Carl on the Sheffield matter, thanked him for accommodating their meeting request, and left.

  At 3:25 PM, Francine Stanley was expecting company. Maggie Marshall had asked to speak with her, along with Max Hargrove. Francine had agreed, although waiting here at Stanley Real Estate, in her office, she was experiencing some anxiety.

  Maggie had been asking about business in general, which was unusual for her. She was usually up to her eyeballs in her specialized work and didn’t seem to care much about the brokerage sales. Maggie had been the source of a steady, low scale but high volume income to Francine.

  Is she getting ready to leave and go out on her own? Why was she bringing Max Hargrove? Was she going into a partnership with him, she wondered? He is good looking though, she thought. She decided to dab on a little extra perfume.

  At 3:30 sharp, in walked Maggie, followed by Max.

  “Good afternoon Francine,” It’s good to see you.” said Max, successfully disguising his rather jittery distrust of this woman. Anyone so overly done with cosmetics and so heavily perfumed must have something to hide, he felt.

  “Hello you two”, Francine said with an inviting tone, “come on in and shut the door. I’m doing phone duty today. Unless I get a call we shouldn’t be interrupted,” she volunteered. Francine was protecting against the conversation being overheard by one of the sales women if one happened to come by.

  Following basically the same approach to the subject as they had with Carl Benson, Maggie and Max described how, with their business life mixed so closely with their private life, it could be considered unethical, or at least being conducted with bias. They asked for her feelings on the matter.

  Francine hesitated and then with an uncharacteristic shrewdness that Maggie had never seen in her she said; “Well, Maggie, you haven’t recommended Mr. Hargrove for personal reasons, to the exclusion of someone else that might do better, have you?”

  “No.” Maggie answered flatly

  “Well then, I see no reason why a good-looking young couple like you two should worry about it. With the golden reputation you both have, if anyone questions your situation to me, they will get nothing but a glowing recommendation.” Francine exclaimed in thinly disguised relief. Maggie isn’t leaving after all, she thought.

  With no further discussion on the subject needed, Maggie and Max thanked Francine for her time and went on their way
.

  While driving out of the office parking lot they simultaneously raised the thought that no mention of the Sheffield killing came from Francine. Maggie suggested that the usually preoccupied woman probably hadn’t heard of it as yet.

  Maggie had decided that her lender clients didn’t have any reason to question her operation. They were mainly interested in timely resolution of the problem loans. The only group of local people with which Maggie and Max associated with was socially related. The tennis club members mostly treated them as a couple and there was usually no business transacted with them anyway. There were no further discussions needed.

  With their days missions completed, their last stop for the day was Jerry’s Jug. They met at Jerry’s at approximately 5:15.

  “Martini time, Kiddo” said Max with a big grin.

  “Make it a king-size for me!” responded Maggie with a laugh. She was still laughing as they went into the pub. Jerry greeted them; “G’Day Mates, short time no see. How goes it with the ‘Terrific Twosome’ on this fine afternoon?”

  “We’re doing great and we have a mighty thirst.” Max said, obviously in a raucous mood. “You’re in the right place then” shot back Jerry.

  A newsflash came on the television over the bar. With a faraway shot of the house on Old Persia Road showing as a backdrop, an announcer came into view:

  “A preliminary investigation has indicated that the recent mysterious death in Sheffield is being investigated as a homicide. Along with the two deaths within four weeks in neighboring East Wayford, this is raising the question of whether there is a serial killer, or killers, at large in the area. The Governor’s Office has issued a statement indicating that the officials from both towns are scheduling a joint news conference. Stay tuned for the latest updates coming up on the late news.”

  “De ja vu!” said Maggie as her and Max clicked their glasses together.