I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1)

by W B Garalt

  Chace mentioned that he had stopped by to speak with Carl Jenson but Carl was out of town. “That’s not unusual”, offered Max, “Carl is always on the go. He’s a busy man.” “If it relates to the company, I might be able to help. We work as a fairly tight team.”

  From Chief Devaro’s briefing Chace knew that Hargrove was considered a key man on the Jenson company staff. The inspector saw a chance to talk with Max and decided to take him up on his offer.

  “If you have the time, I would appreciate it.” he said. Max was agreeable and suggested that Chace join him for an early lunch. Chace agreed and they decided that ‘Jerry’s Jug’ would be a good place for that. Each went to his car and they soon joined up at Jerry’s.

  “G-day mates” came the usual greeting from Jerry. Max introduced Don Chace to Jerry. Jerry recognized the inspector. He had eaten there.

  “And where’s the better half of the “Terrific Twosome?” Jerry asked Max.

  “She’s out doing what she does best Jerry” Max answered, “I haven’t heard from her today. I’ve been working on a project up north until yesterday.”

  Max and Chace ordered their lunch. While they waited, and later while they ate, Chace was curious as to exactly what the connection was between Stanley Realty and Jenson & Associates and he wanted to hear Max’s version of it. Max obliged, telling the inspector that there was no direct business connection and that the main reason for the two companies being involved with the same properties was because of Maggie’s aggressive effectiveness in her liaison work between lenders, owners and sales professionals toward a resolution of financially distressed properties. Because of the slow real estate market, many times the inevitable result was a property auction.

  Maggie had been referring cases to, and working with Max on the auction properties for quite a while, Max explained. Chace asked if Max had knowledge of any connection between the two business owners other than that which Max had just described. Max did not know if there was any other connection.

  Chace had no further questions beyond that and they commented on a news blurb which popped up on the TV over the bar concerning the latest Iraq military action. That led them to discuss each other’s service days, Max with his army days and Chace with his air force stint.

  As they finished lunch they were silently watching and listening to results of a PGA golf tournament as Maggie came into the bar behind the two seated at the bar. Approaching silently from behind she stuck her fingers into the ribs of a familiar figure.

  “Hey mister, looking for a good time?” she said in a faked sultry voice.

  Chace sat up straight and turned to look at an astounded and shocked Maggie. She had mistakenly propositioned Chace, rather than Max.

  Jerry was bringing the check over and caught the speechless, stunned threesome.

  “I see you all know each other, what do we have here now, a Terrific Trio?” he asked in jest. Maggie’s face was as red as it could possibly be.

  “Oh! I….I’m so sorry”, she said to the surprised inspector. Max, holding back his amusement at Maggie’s embarrassing predicament, introduced her to the inspector.

  “Maggie, I want you to meet Inspector Don Chace of the Connecticut State Police,” he said teasingly, laying it on real thick to heighten her embarrassment.

  After exchanging “Pleased to meet you” the three of them had a friendly conversation, mostly about Maggie, since Max and Don Chace had swapped “war stories” earlier and were running out of idle conversation.

  The inspector mentioned Chief Devaro because the chief had referred to Maggie and Max as fellow club members and friends of his and his wife’s.

  It was obvious that the chief was regarded highly by both of them. They explained that he was some twenty years their senior and they respected his judgment. In tennis, they good naturedly referred to his “killer instinct” as a mild character flaw. Lou Devaro and his wife had no children and it was possible that he subconsciously felt about Maggie and Max as he would have felt for his own offspring, they suggested.

  Inspector Chace had to go back to work and, having accepted Max’s offer to pay his tab, expressed his pleasure in having met both Max and Maggie as he departed.

  Maggie was famished and ordered a sandwich for lunch. Max had a coffee to keep her company while she ate.

  “He is a real pro and seems quite capable”, commented Max, referring to Inspector Chace, “I get the feeling that they may finally get somewhere with these homicides,” Maggie agreed.

  “He seems like a good guy alright. I’ll never live down mistaking him for you. That had to be one of the most dumb-headed things I’ve done.” she moaned. “You guys bear a remarkable likeness from behind, though.” she continued, reaching for some semblance of self-righteousness.

  “Hmm…, I thought I was a lot better looking than him.” Max said with a grin. He was pushing her to get over her embarrassment and get back to being Maggie.

  “Don’t be such a conceited jerk!” She responded on cue, laughing at his comment. She knew Max well. He was anything but conceited but he was a very secure person, as was she. This was part of the magic between them.

  All is right in the world again, thought Max, Maggie is back.

  Chapter 22

  An unusual, seasonably-early heat wave was upon the populace of East Wayford. This Monday morning started with a hazy red sunrise and no breeze at all. The humidity was up and people were unaccustomed to the changed atmosphere.

  Max’s phone rang before he had completed his morning shower. It wasn’t the first time Max regretted having a phone extension installed in his bathroom. Bruce Grover was on the phone telling Max that three tenants had called complaining that their air conditioning wasn’t working.

  “Bruce, have you checked any of the thermostats in the apartments yet?” he asked. Bruce had not. “Well, Bruce, you’ve been here for a while, what is your thermostat set at?” asked Max.

  “Uh.... let’s see, it’s on heat.” Bruce replied.

  “For Christ’s sake Bruce,” yelled Max into the phone, “Did you tell any of the tenants who called to set their thermostat to cool?” There was a silence for a moment and Bruce replied.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot, mine is blowing cool now.” he replied. Max, talking on the wall phone while nude and dripping onto his bathroom tile floor, was steaming.

  “Go to the apartments that complained and ask them if you can check their thermostats. Set them on cool. That’s part of your job, dammit, not calling me first!” Max blasted. There was a click as Bruce hung up. “What a way to start the day!” Max fretted to himself.

  Fifteen minutes later, as Max was leaving for his office he spotted Bruce coming out of the south entrance to the building. He hailed him and asked if Mrs. Durham’s scratched car had been fixed. Bruce mumbled that he had taken the car to a body shop in town and it wasn’t finished yet. With that, he turned and went around behind the building.

  The day had not started well for the law enforcement department in East Wayford either. Irate citizens had been calling in to the police department asking for an explanation as to why there had been no reports of progress on the ‘crime wave’ hanging over the East Wayford area.

  The uproar, stoked by a combination of the unexpected overnight heat and humidity and the media deluge of stimulating commentary was, with an election year looming, partly politically motivated. On the other hand, to logical thinking citizens of a normally quiet and peaceful Northeastern U.S community, it was quite unsettling to have killings taking place one after another within a short period of time.

  Mayor VanDyke had called Chief Devaro and requested a meeting with him and his investigation team as soon as possible. The chief responded by scheduling a Tuesday meeting at the police headquarters building.

  At mid-morning he went into Don Chace’s office and, with the door closed they began to prepare the next days briefing outline.

  “Gene VanDyke is a hands-off Public Safety Commissioner,” the chief to
ld Inspector Chace. “Normally he wouldn’t get involved but I know for a fact that he has been taking some flak from the Governor’s office lately. It doesn’t help matters that the Mayor and the Governor are on opposite sides of the political spectrum.” Chace understood, his commander was in the same boat.

  “All we can do at the meeting, Lou, is layout everything we have on the table and hope for the best right now.” he said in a resigned tone. The chief was not especially comfortable with that idea.

  “I don’t think that we’re ready for that yet.” he said. “This is a small, tight community we operate in and it doesn’t take more than a sneeze at the wrong time to start tongues wagging. I’ve been witness to that over the years of my tenure here.” Chace yielded to the chief in this regard. He didn’t need any extra interference here on the chief’s home turf. He and the chief needed to be in the same corner, for both their sakes.

  “Okay, we had better get straight what to present and what not to present,” Chace suggested.

  “Especially before Lieutenant Salvadore gets back on the scene.” Chief Devaro added.

  Within an hour they had mapped out a strategy for meeting with the Mayor. It was designed in a way that would give the mayor confidence that everything possible was being done and that the investigation was expanding to some peripheral people and places that could shed further light on the subject.

  At the Stanley Realty office an unusual event had gotten Francine a little worked up. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, she thought. Carrie hadn’t come into the office for two work days and, when Carrie finally returned the calls she told Francine that she “didn’t feel well enough to deal with the public or the cameras.”

  The media, some from out of town, had taped Carrie coming and going at the office for a week or so, since the investigative reporters had come across the fact that Stanley Realty signs had been posted at the scenes of the two East Hartford killings. Carrie was, due to her looks, making for good news clips as she sashayed in and out between her Porsche and the office.

  Over the phone Francine could sense the panic in Carrie’s voice. Taking on the mentor role, she attempted to alleviate Carrie’s tension.

  “Calm down, stay put and I’ll stop by your apartment as soon as one of the other girls comes in to tend the phone,” she said, “We’ll work out something, don’t worry.”

  Francine was far from calm herself, however. Within the past month, or so, everything seemed to be turning upside down. At first she was nervous about the effect that the adverse publicity surrounding the homicides might have on her business. More recently she was thinking that all the TV news clips showing her Stanley Realty signs and her office could actually boost the name recognition. The homicides would be solved eventually and any residual stigma attached to her company would be unlikely. Carrie, on the other hand, was another story, she fretted.

  Chapter 23

  In East Wayford the weather had cooled some, but Chief Lou Devaro and Inspector Don Chace were still on the ‘hot seat’. The Tuesday morning roll call and briefing had finished and the briefing room was available. Mayor Gene VanDyke had arrived to meet with Lou and Don for a comprehensive review of the homicide investigation.

  The municipal Administrator and Police Officials exchanged greetings and quickly got down to business. Inspector Chace reviewed the outline of what they knew to date. Gene VanDyke felt updated but commented that much of it was common knowledge by now.

  He asked for specifics and Chief Devaro pointed out that, although there were similarities between all three homicide cases, the Sheffield killing didn’t fit the mold completely. He indicated that they were keeping First Selectman “Doc Franklin” informed on the Sheffield case, but that some of the investigating details within Chief Devaro’s jurisdiction, including local East Wayford individuals, should be “Kept in East Wayford.”

  Inspector Chace showed the mayor his list of those under investigation from his diagram but withheld the graphics showing possible connections and the names of suspects. Both the chief and the inspector indicated that two of the individuals, Ms. Marshall and Mr. Hargrove had been, to some extent, cleared so far.

  The mayor, after asking a few non-consequential questions, thanked the chief and the inspector and got up to leave.

  “Has Lieutenant Salvadore’s work notes been of any help?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, we’ve incorporated his information into what we’ve shown you, Gene.” answered the chief

  “Okay, good, once he gets back from his course, it’ll add another pair of ‘pheet’[feet] on the ground for you.” said VanDyke in his special vernacular.

  After Mayor VanDyke left, the two police professionals reflected on the meeting.

  “Do you think that will keep the upper echelon off our backs for a while?” Chace asked the chief.

  “Well, maybe for a real little while, let’s say for the weekend. We’ve got to be careful, Don. Politics creates strange bedfellows. It’s hard to stay consistent in politics. Think of a sailboat sailing upwind; tack this way, tack that way, let out more sail, pull in the sails. There are people I’ve known for years in this town that I wouldn’t say anything substantial to, even if my professional life depended on it.” Lou Devaro pontificated.

  “I hear you,” said Chace, “I’ve tried to maintain that caution for myself. What you’re describing is exactly the same on the state level, except multiplied times one hundred.”

  After a short time the chief left for the day, leaving word that he would be at the tennis club if anyone needed him.

  Don Chace was more determined than ever. He couldn’t recall having had a case where so many individuals could have had possible involvement in homicides such as these. Incredibly, in this instance, in the face of such gruesome crimes within this quiet, close-knit community, there was not one individual who stood out as the most likely suspect. Being a realist he knew that local residents would, many times, have low expectations concerning their local police and officials, but when the Connecticut State Police were called in, an immediate result would be expected.

  Chace had to make a choice, either to call for added personnel from state headquarters or come up with a plan of action before another killing happened. In trying to predict the mindset of the phantom perpetrator and judging by the tempo of the past occurrences, he had a strong sense that there would be another attempt within two weeks.

  A copy of Francine’s records of her associates’ recent activities showed that Carrie Slavonic had viewed the listed property on both of the East Wayford sites and had accompanied Francine Stanley on the brokers’ open house in Sheffield. He decided to re-attempt a questioning of Francine’s trainee since she was the only person of interest other than Francine, in his diagram, who had apparently been at the crime scene in advance of all three killings. Francine, herself, just didn’t fit the mold of a killer somehow.

  In Chace’s calls to the Stanley Realty office, Carrie hadn’t been in for a few days. Using the address which had been given to Salvadore, according to his notes, Chace decided to try to catch her at home.

  The address turned out to be at an upscale condominium complex in the north section of neighboring New Haven.

  Upon arrival Chace found that Carrie’s townhouse apartment was at the end of a six unit, vinyl-sided, wood frame structure. The construction was of a high quality and style. The landscaping and grounds were well designed and immaculately maintained.

  Chace noticed the Porsche parked on the driveway of a two-car attached garage. Either she’s living in with someone or she’s doing real well in a lousy real estate market. This place is above my salary range, he thought while ringing the doorbell.

  “Who is it?” was Carrie’s answer through the intercom. After announcing himself and waiting a full two minutes, the door opened slightly with the safety chain still attached. A dimly lit background framed a female face and an amply endowed upper body.

  “Can you tell me what this is about?” asked
Carrie. The inspector proceeded to explain that a few short questions wouldn’t take long if she would kindly accommodate him inside. Carrie, dressed in an expensive looking evening lounging robe, hesitatingly obliged.

  Trailing a cloud of heavy musk perfume, she led Chace to a rather huge, lavishly furnished great room with a vaulted, two-story ceiling. Having seated him on a plush velvet sectional sofa, Carrie took a seat on the opposite side of a widely spaced conversation grouping.

  Chace proceeded with his questions and Carrie answered them cautiously, with measured words.

  “Did your company have the property on 230 Whitmore Lane in East Wayford listed for sale?” Chace asked.

  “Yes, it was up for sale.” was the response.

  “Did you personally view the interior of the property?” was the next question.

  “Yes, we all go out to see office listings when they first come on the market.” Carrie answered.

  “Did you notice anything unusual about the home or the furnishings?” Chace asked.

  “Not that I can remember.” she responded. Chace hesitated, turning the page of his note pad.

  “Did your office have the unused industrial property on Farm River Road listed for sale?” was the next question.

  “Yes” Carrie answered brusquely.

  “Did you view that property?”

  “Yes, it had gone off the market for a time before my employment there and I viewed it with my boss when it came back on.” Carrie responded, going into more detail with her answer. “I didn’t see inside of all of the structure in the back, some of it was unsafe, but I saw the payroll office and locker room section.” Chace pursued her willingness to talk more freely.

  “Was there anything unusual at that property?” he asked.